


Fuck The Bells

by ProfessionalPenThief



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn, also I took some liberties with character history because its an au, i am never going to do a phd, it's currently rated m but might go to e depending on my mood, or how universities work, please forgive me for i do not know maths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-03-06 23:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18861223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessionalPenThief/pseuds/ProfessionalPenThief
Summary: Everyone at Westeros University knew who Jaime Lannister was; including Brienne Tarth. With his last name, and the Aerys scandal, how could she not? What Brienne never anticipated was having to work with him; or even more unexpectedly, falling in love with him.





	1. It's called the Brobdingnag

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Fuck The Bells](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19860055) by [marmalata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmalata/pseuds/marmalata)



> Did I start a multi chapter au with only one episode left to air because I am salty about what they did to Jaime and Brienne? Yes, yes I did. This is a personal fuck you to d&d enjoy.

The sun glinted off of the brass archway of Westeros University. It pooled into a bright spot underneath turning snow into slush. The otherwise quiet morning was interrupted by a group of students facing a young man with light stubble dotting his round, homey face. Podrick Payne smiled politely at the bored, innocent faces in front of him. He pointed at the archway and cleared his throat.

“This is where it all begins. Umm, in ways more than one,” he said. Then, he pointed at the short, red-bricked building opposite them. Bright black lettering marked its name - King’s Landing.

“This arch and King’s Landing were the first establishments of Westeros University and from here on, we’ve just expanded. Come on.”

He waved at the prospective students and their parents to walk towards King’s Landing. The interior was plush red with streaks of gold. Manning the information desk by the doors was a short woman with curly hair and soft tan. A large tapestry hung behind her, portraying a single lion, standing on its heel.

“What’s that,” asked one of the parents.

“Ah, uhh, that’s a tapestry from the private collection of Tywin Lannister.”

“Of Lannister Incorporated?”

“Yep. Yes, sir.”

“I heard they got the dean fired; what was his name - Aerys, I think.” This time it was a young boy wearing WU memorabilia who spoke up.

Podrick cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “They are the school’s biggest donors. Uhh, they also have a building named after them. Why don’t I show you around?”

He moved towards a three dimensional model of the Westeros university campus, encased in glass, just some distance away. The group followed obediently.

“We have 5 major buildings - King’s Landing, of course. And then there’s Casterly Rock, funded entirely by the Lannisters. It’s the new business school building. There’s Dorne, the building dedicated to music, composition and special arts. Some of the best opera singers are Dorne alumni. On the other side are the Iron Islands.” Podrick pointed at a cluster of short buildings surrounding a taller one.

“At the center is Pyke,” he continued. “All these are different laboratories; together they make up the science departments. And lastly, we have Winterfell, for math and statistics.”

He looked up at the group as he concluded. “As you can see, if you draw a line through them all, they form a W. For --”

“Westeros University,” interrupted the same boy. Podrick nodded. “Precisely.”

Winterfell occupied the extreme corner of the W and was a tall, beige building set in the middle of a frosty field. From the distance, the Iron Islands were visible and even further away was King’s Landing.

Footsteps tracked throughout the field as students crossed in and out of the building. Among them was Brienne Tarth, a tall woman with a large build. She donned a blue sweater that perfectly fit her broad shoulders. With a short blond bob, simple nude makeup and a large satchel filled to the brim, she looked like the ideal Ph.D. student.

She knocked twice on a wooden door with frosted glass. The tag on the wall read Catelyn Stark, Associate Professor.

“Come in,” came a crisp answer.

Professor Catelyn Stark had a perennially thoughtful expression; every word she uttered was spoken after much deliberation. She was in an all too fashionable pantsuit, seated behind a desk. Upon seeing Brienne, the sharp lines etched across her face rearranged themselves to accommodate for the warmth and respect she carried for her student.

“Brienne, have a seat,” said Professor Stark. She stood up to greet Brienne and the two quickly settled into their seats.

“You asked to see me. Is this about the report? I know the last batch of numbers didn’t quite add up, but --”

“No, Brienne. The numbers were fine.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Unfortunately, they are also irrelevant.”

Brienne sat up straighter, the confusion evident on her face.

“Unfortunately, I must be the bearer of bad news,” said Professor Stark. Her eyes were regretful as she continued. “The department is cutting down on funding for research students and that includes yourself.”

Brienne inhaled sharply, the words hitting her like a ton of bricks.

“Who else is losing funding?”

Silence.

“Hugh? Dayne? What about Tyrell?” She demands, an edge creeping into her voice.

“The university thinks that their research… has tremendous potential,” answered Professor Stark, not quite meeting Brienne’s eye.

“Potential? They are researching Euclid. There’s about a hundred papers on Euclid. An enthusiastic high schooler could write a paper on Euclid. One probably has.”

Professor Starks sighed. “That’s why the administration thinks it’s a non-risky choice.” She stopped, cutting herself off. Brienne said nothing, allowing the unspoken words to fill up the room. “Unlike you.”

As Professor Stark pinched the bridge of her nose, she seemed much older. Like she had been on the run, and in that one instant, the years caught up with her. She reached out and took Brienne’s hands. Brienne looked alarmed and visibly uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to physical touch, and it was only partly out of choice.

“It’s not fair,” said Professor Stark. “And I am doing everything I can to change their minds; I really am. But you should consider taking your research to some other university. Anyone of them would be lucky to have you. And if you need anything - letters of recommendation, any strings that need pulling, anything at all.”

Brienne nodded, slowly pulling her hands away. “Thank you, Professor Stark. I appreciate it.”

“Please, call me Catelyn. I think it’s time.”

Brienne offered a wry smile as she stood up.

“I’ll clear up my stuff from the lab,” she said as she headed towards the door. Catelyn nodded, watching Brienne leave.

Once Catelyn was certain that she was alone, she gave into her frustrations. “Fuck!” she exclaimed, slapping the edge of her desk and pushing it away. Naturally, the desk didn’t budge but her own chair skid backward. She sat alone in the room, silent except her heavy breathing as the walls closed in on her.

“Fuck.” She said again, this time softly, muttered under her breath. She stood up abruptly, unable to stay in the suffocating room. Grabbing her jacket and keys, she stepped out the door slamming shut behind her with finality.

The admissions department at Westeros University wasn’t so much a department as a row of counters of which at any given time, only one would be operating. At that particular moment, a petite brunette woman chewing gum sat behind the glass; she looked bored and like someone who will kill you for asking why.

Not that it mattered to Jaime Lannister. The only thing separating them was a short queue of people and Jaime’s sole focus was on bridging the gap. He hesitated, only very briefly but nonetheless, he hesitated. It wasn’t easy being a Lannister among the student body of WU and what he was about to do next wasn’t going to make him any more popular.

After he had allowed himself a moment of preparation, he strode past the line of students with oversized sweatshirts, coffee cups, and dark circles. The uproar that followed him was instantaneous but he tuned it out as he reached the counter.

“I can’t enroll for my summer classes. Can you help me?” he asked. He glanced at the placard in front of the woman and added, “Yara.”

Yara looked like she wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face but all she could do was give him a dull nod.

“Id please.”

Jaime handed over his id card and observed her as she quickly typed into her computer.

“Yeah, you didn’t pass one of your classes,” replied Yara. Glancing at the line behind him, she raised her voice a tad. “Jaime Lannister.”

The person right behind him, a freshman by the looks of it, snickered loudly. Jaime turned around and fixed him with a murderous glare. Quietly, so no one but the two of them could catch it, Jaime said,“I just want you to know that I have absolutely no qualms in making sure your bloodline ends with you.”

The freshman took a step forward, taunting Jaime for a fight. But the person behind the freshman pulled him back. As Jaime turned to face Yara once again, they whispered, “It’s not worth it, man. You’ll get in trouble and his dad will just bail him out.”

Jaime pointedly ignored them, hoping his face didn’t betray the way his throat closed up around him.

“Intro to stats,” said Yara.

“What?”

“The class you failed.”

“Right. Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah, I was wondering --”

“Great. Have a good day,” said Yara, dismissing him.

Catelyn was pacing in front of the desk, lost in her own thoughts. Behind the desk sat a man dressed in a sharp suit, his hair greased back by far too much gel. Overall, he gave a greasy distasteful vibe. This was associate professor Petyr Baelish.

He followed Catelyn with his eyes, glancing up and down her body - her auburn hair pulled back in a neat bun, the curve of her waist, her long legs accentuated by the pantsuit, the cut of her blouse and the way it shaped her --

Just as he felt his thoughts starting to wander, she stopped her pacing and came to a halt in front of him. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to clear his mind.

“I don’t know what to do, Petyr.”

“About?”

“Brienne Tarth.”

“Come on, Cat. Students come and go; put your mind to rest.”

Catelyn shook her head. “I can’t. She is exceptional, Petyr. Better than any student I have ever taught. And this goes beyond that. What’s happening to her is just plain unfair.”

Petyr scoffed. “Fair. Since when do you care about, or believe in fairness.”

Catelyn fixed him with a stare. Sensing her displeasure, he immediately backtracked.

“You’re right. It’s not fair. How can I help?”

“Help me fight the administration; change their minds. Back me up.”  
Petyr shook his head. “I would gladly fight for you, Cat. You know that, of course. But I don’t think it will work. You need to think outside the box.”

“Maybe if we make a good plea --”

“Too much of your husband has rubbed off on you.”

Catelyn rolled her eyes and turned away from Petyr. He had made his disapproval of Ned clear one too many times and she wasn’t interested. Sometimes she wondered why she still talked to him, and then she remembered the way the rest of her colleagues treated her.

Petyr approached her tentatively, putting his arms around her shoulders. He tugged a little, pulling her into an awkward hug. This was new. Catelyn squirmed in his arms, pulling back to maintain some space between them. Petyr could look at her face clearly, so close and so deliciously in reach. Ignoring her squirming, without a care for her clear discomfort, he put his hands around her face and pulled her into a kiss.

Catelyn reacted instantly, kneeing him in the groin and pushing him away. Baelish clutched his crotch with one hand and held on to the desk with the other for support.

“You bitch.”

“What the fuck, Baelish.”

He straightened a little, though still in evident pain.

“Come on, Cat. Don’t act so surprised. You know I’m in love with you. Why else would I help you with every little inconvenience you may have?”

“I thought we were friends.”

“Sure. But I’m tired of listening to all your complaints without getting anything in return.”

Catelyn stiffened; the hurt and betrayal on her face replaced by furious anger.

“Don’t worry; you won’t have to listen to my complaints anymore.”

She slammed the door on her way out. Her demeanor crumbled as she walked back to her office. She felt violated and gross and like she had aged an eternity. And the day wasn’t anywhere close to being over. For the first time in the last seven years that she had been teaching, she felt the fight drain from her. And the cherry on top was Jaime Lannister, waiting outside her office.

“Lannister, I don’t have time right now.” She pulled her keys and fiddled with the lock as she talked.

“These are your office hours.”

“Yes, but I’m a little busy so --”

“Do you have a meeting with another student?”

“Why don’t I make an appointment for you?”

Jaime didn’t care, following her into the office and taking a seat. Catelyn took her seat behind the desk.

“You can’t deny me my right to check in with me professor.”

“No, no one can say no to you.”

“You know what, you’re right. No one can say no to me. I’m a Lannister.”

“What do you want?”

“You failed me in Intro for Stats. I know I gave a perfect final, so I was just wondering how that came about.”

“You did give a good test. Unfortunately, a good part of your grade also relied on attendance. Maybe you should have checked in with your professor during actual lectures.”

“I’m sure you can make an exception for a special student.”

“I cannot. Only school administration can, and you are not a special student.”

Silence. The two stared at each other, waiting for the other to make the next move. Each pondering their options.

“I talked to the administration; they said you make the final call.”

Catelyn smiled, regaining her sense of control. She had one the first round.

“What can I do?” asked Jaime. “Extra credit?”

Catelyn mused for a moment and then, like a bolt of lightening everything clicked into place. Exceptions would always be made for people like Jaime Lannister. The school administration can’t say no the Lannister name. The world wasn’t fair but sometimes, just sometimes the scales could be tipped the right. And he did have one of the most perfect finals she had corrected.

Cersei Lannister wore dark red lipstick, a color that perfectly suited her perfectly tanned white skin. Her blonde hair was styled perfectly, falling around her shoulders. Her wine red blazer and skirt combination completed the look. She had clearly arrived at the restaurant directly from work.

In the short walk from the door to her table, Jaime noted that nearly every other table was glancing in her direction. He wasn’t surprised. Everything about Cersei’s appearance (with the added benefit of her last name) invited people in. But he also knew that everything about her behavior kept them at a reasonable distance. As he slid into the seat opposite hers, she looked up and smiled. It was a rare one; it was genuine.

“Her family is an exception,” he mused. Aloud he said, “Sorry about the wait. It’s been a shit day.”

Before Cersei could inquire, a server approached the table with a bottle of chardonnay and two wine glasses.

“I ordered us a red,” said Cersei in a matter of fact tone.

Jaime pulled a face. “You know I prefer white wine.”

“And I prefer Red. We have to compromise sometimes.”

Jaime sighed and nodded, picking up his glass and raising it at Cersei. She smiled and toasted him back.

“So, why was your day shit?”

“I have to help out one of the Ph.D students so I can get extra credit and pass this class from last semester,” explained Jaime, rolling his eyes.

“Did you fail a class, Jaime?”

“Don’t be alarmed dear sister; it was an intro to stats class.”

“Still,” hissed Cersei. “We have a reputation to maintain.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Well, don’t worry because I am going to pass it. Hence the extra credit.”

“Maybe I should talk to father. See if we can pull some strings.”

“Cersei, don’t. It’s not a big deal.”

“You can’t take this lightly.”

“I am not. I talked to Catelyn Stark,” said Jaime. Noting Cersei’s confusion, he added, “The professor. And I’m going to do the extra credit. And I don’t need father to swoop and fix everything.”

Cersei looked skeptical but didn’t argue.

“Promise me, Cersei.”

“You can be so overdramatic, Jaime.”

Jaime didn’t respond.

“Fine, I swear I won’t interfere.”

Jaime nodded and took another sip of his wine, letting the red wash over him slowly. The two sat in silence for a moment, but it was eventually broken by the arrival of a short, dwarfish man. No one would look at his scarred face and relate it to Jaime’s clear skin. Or draw a connection between his twinkling eyes and Cersei’s cold, hard ones. And yet, he was Tyrion Lannister, Jaime and Cersei’s younger brother.

He pulled up a chair at the table and sat between them, grinning widely.

“Tyrion, what are you doing here?” asked Jaime.

“Ah! My dear brother, good to see you too.”

“You know I’m glad to see you. We just weren’t expecting you.”

“Yes, where’s father?” added Cersei.

“He was on his way to meet you when he was accosted by a rather tall gentleman. Although, in fairness, everyone appears tall to me. He convinced father that he was worthy of his time and so here I am, relaying this message to you, along with Tywin Lannister’s deepest apologies,” replied Tyrion, speaking in a singular breath.

“Oh. How are you, Tyrion?” asked Jaime.

“I’m doing well. The company is treating me well. Of course, I am five years younger to you and still smarter than you and Cersei combined and yet all father has me do is scut work like I’m some intern, but you know, it’s all good.”

“I earned my place in the company. So should you,” said Cersei.

“Is that red?” asked Tyrion, grabbing at the bottle of wine. He raised his hand to beckon the server as Jaime and Cersei exchanged knowing looks.

Brienne was perched on a lab stool, her book bag lying on the table. She was writing neatly into a register, taking inventory of the equipment lying in front of her. She was content with the work, eager for a reason to distract herself even as the finality of everything hit her.

Suddenly she was overcome by an urge to look up and sure enough, someone was standing by the door. He had beautiful blonde hair; that shined something golden compared to her dull stray. His bright green eyes were sparkling. His jaw was perfectly chiseled; even the crookedness of his teeth was breathtakingly perfect.

He strolled into the lab, walking with a casual elegance that would never come naturally to her. He looked at her up and down, making an appraisal as he took her in. Brienne scowled automatically; resisting the urge to cross her hands and shield her body.

"Is this the statistics lab,” he asked, dramatically glancing around. "or did I just walk into the land of the giants."

Brienne rolled her eyes. Real original.

"It's called the Brobdingnag," she replied, not bothering to hide the disdain in her voice. “From Gullivers Travels.” She added as he stared at her with an amused expression.

“Of course you know what it’s called.”

Brienne fumed, not replying. After a moment, when it became clear that she wasn’t going to fall for his bait, he continued.

“You know actually, it was supposed to be called Brobdingrag but Swift’s publisher fucked it up.”

“What? You know what, no, actually I don’t want to know.” She looked away, deciding that the best course of action would be to ignore him, and those fucking green eyes and the way they lit up when he was amused. Fuck her to hell and back.

"Don't get all sensitive on me now. You're really tall for a girl, you know that."

"Really? I hadn’t noticed."

God, she was actually kinda pleased that she was holding her own. Especially considering that her inner monologue had entirely gone off the rails.

"I am looking for Catelyn Stark. She asked to meet me here.”

"What do you want with her"

"Ah, I don't kiss and tell."

"That's not funny, you know. If someone heard that, she could get fired."

"And the world would come to a standstill.”

"I'll have you know that Catelyn Stark is the greatest mathematician seen in the past decade. She is brilliant and smart and insightful and a path breaker in her field, especially being a woman. She had to fight every step of the way to be taken seriously. No matter what the world threw at her, she always turned out to be stronger."

“Are you sure you’re not the one sleeping with her?”

Brienne resisted the urge to stomp her foot. The man was infuriating, perfect hair be damned.

“She’s my mentor, you twat. Some of us believe in hard work and respect; not everything is about sex.

“For you, I’m not sure anything is about sex. I bet you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“And I bet you can think you can get away with talking shit because you’ve never taken responsibility for anything in your life. Or had to earn anything. Things just got handed to you, didn’t they?”

“Woah!” he said, taking a step back. “Strong words there, wench. You don’t even know me.”

Of course, she bloody well knew who he was. Jaime Lannister. There wasn’t a person in WU who didn’t know him.

“Ah! You’re both here. Good.”

Jaime and Brienne turned to Catelyn, standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Lannister, this is Brienne Tarth. Brienne, this is Jaime Lannister. He is going to be helping you with your research for the next few weeks.”


	2. The square root of four is two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of things - 
> 
> 1) I'll be posting weekly; every Friday. It's going to be 7 chapters and I have them all planned out.  
> 2) I'm taking liberties with some characters and their backstories cause this is an au. And also, no matter many liberties I take with the characters it is literally impossible for me to fuck it up as bad as canon did (we're strictly talking the show here)  
> 3) join me in the 'jaime lannister is alive and a stay at home dad at Tarth' club; we're ignoring the canon and coping by watching gwen and nik interview compilations. 
> 
> Also; thank you for all your lovely comments. Feel free to scream at me some more on tumblr.

Brienne felt her stomach in her throat. There was a sharp and sudden ringing in her ears as Catelyn’s word registered in her brain. Jaime Lannister, helping her with her research. Helping? Her research? What was happening?

Her confusion and uncertainty must be evident on her face because Catelyn asked her to step out with her. She followed Catelyn, glancing at Jaime as she did. The smug bastard looked far too pleased with himself for her taste.

“Brienne, allow me to explain,” said Catelyn, her voice soft and gentle. Brienne had a strong, vivid flashback of her mother, singing her to sleep. It was in rare moments like these that she remembered that Catelyn Stark was a mother to two young girls.

“My research,” said Brienne, her voice tentative. “I thought the university refused the funding.”

“I promised you that I wasn’t going to give up. I have a solution, and it’s not ideal but --”

Brienne filled in the rest of the blanks by herself.

“Jaime Lannister swoops in, saves the project and suddenly the university doesn’t see it as a risk.”

“Something like that,” answered Catelyn.

“Professor Stark, with all due respect, I never expected this from you of all people. He is an undergrad. No matter how smart, he cannot be better than me. If you really had to bring in a man to fix my research, let it be someone who actually knows what they are doing.”

“Miss Tarth, you misunderstand me. You don’t need help Brienne; you are perfectly capable of this all by yourself. You need Jaime Lannister for his name.”

Realization dawned on Brienne, her shoulder relaxing and face going slack. “The Lannisters get what they want.”

Catelyn nodded. “You don’t have to agree to it, but…”  
  
“No; you’re right. It’s… it’s ingenious. I’m sorry,” said Brienne, her voice small and sheepish.

“Never apologize for standing up for yourself,” said Catelyn, reaching out and squeezing Brienne’s shoulders.

Brienne pressed her lips together to stop them from quivering. Her blue eyes shone bright and wide as she smiled. She took a deep breath to compose herself.

“Professor Stark --”

“Catelyn, please I insist.”

“Why would he agree?”

“I can’t divulge that, but I assure you he won’t turn his back on you.”

Brienne nods. Still hesitant, still reluctant but willing to take a leap of faith. That’s what faith is supposed to be, right?

As she stepped back into the lab, Jaime had her scales in his hand. She nearly screamed.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, grabbing them and gently placing them back on a shelf.

“I was curious. Say, what exactly do those measure? I know I could put them to good use.”

“Is everything a joke to -- you know what, we’re going to set some ground rules.”

Jaime walked around the lab, half listening. He uncapped a dry erase marker, doodling on the edge of a whiteboard. Brienne stepped up to him and snatched it out of his hand.

“My sword; you ruined it,” said Jaime, referring to the crude drawing of a sword. Brienne wiped it out with the back of her hand, retracing some of the numbers that appeared faded.

“Number one, do not mess anything up. Don’t break the scales, they’re expensive and I know money doesn’t mean anything to you but for the love of god, don’t break the scales. Don’t erase the numbers, or touch anything you don’t understand --”

“Or breathe? Or generally exist.”

“Just don’t jeopardize the project, okay?”

“What if someone holds up a gun against my head and tells me that I absolutely have to fuck something up?” asked Jaime, a smug look on his face. Riling her up was just as easy as it was tempting, and when it came down to it, he had absolutely no self-control.

Brienne inhaled sharply. Faith was going to be very difficult indeed.

Catelyn opened her office door, pleased with the way her morning was going. She wasn’t a stranger to hardship. She knew the easiest way to get through a tough life was by holding on to the lightness; the moments that made you float just a little. Watching the way Brienne’s face lit up was one of those moments.

She saw a lot of herself in Brienne; she didn’t know much about the specifics of her situation but she knew enough to know that Brienne hadn’t had an easy go of it either. And helping her, well it felt a little bit like helping her younger self.

But as she opened the door, the floating feeling dissipated, leaving her with a pile of bricks in her stomach. In the chair opposite her desk was Peytr Baelish.

“What are you doing… how did you get in?”

He stood up and smiling, moved towards her. She took an instinctive step backward, maintaining the distance between them.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Fine. Apology accepted. Please, leave,” said Catelyn, stepping out of her office altogether clearing space for Baelish to leave.

“Aren’t you going to apologize too?”

She stared at him, stunned.

“Look, I know I put you on the spot but now that you’ve had the time to think about it…” he trailed off, reaching forward and attempting to take her hands. She immediately crossed them.

“Professor Baelish, let me make it very clear. I am not interested in you. And this is highly unprofessional and inappropriate.”

“You don’t know what you want,” said Baelish, his jaw clenched and his eyes betraying hateful anger underneath his calm demeanor.

“I do. I want you to leave my office.”

Baelish tried to cup her face but she slapped his hands away.

“DON’T! Touch me!”

Baelish flinched.

“You don’t know what you want. You’ll come around soon enough.”

“GET OUT!”

He straightened his back; the movement adding to his height. He was nearly towering over her as he shuffled past. She met his gaze, unbridled anger in her eyes. Jaw tight, fists clenched - ready to defend herself.

Life had thrown a lot her way. Baelish wasn’t the first and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. Life was tough. But she was tougher.

The moment he was out of her line of vision, she marched across the campus, all the way to King’s Landing. She didn’t pause till she was inside the Administration offices.

Two sharp knocks. The plaque on the door read - Human Resources.

“Come in,” called out Cersei, distractedly. Documents were scattered across her desk. She held a few papers in her hand as she glanced between them and her laptop - clearly verifying something. Jaime pushed the door open, leaning against the door frame. He held a brown paper bag in one hand.

“You stood me up, love.”

Cersei looked up at the sound of his voice. She groaned softly and pressed her eyes shut. Flung the papers on the desk as she rubbed her face. As she opened her eyes, Jaime was much closer, concern adding at least three more lines on his forehead.

Cersei offered him her hand as she moved out from behind the desk.

“I’m going through the accounts and the numbers for the school’s donations aren’t adding up.”

“They never do.”

Cersei rolled her eyes. “Forget it; you won’t get it.”

“No, I get it,” said Jaime. Cersei began to pull her hands away as he said, “Come on! Let me help you.”

She laughed. It was more like a quiet chuckle, small and instinctive but it still stung. He tried to hide the hurt as he cleared his throat.

“Let’s just have lunch,” he said, putting the paper bag on the desk.

“My papers!” Cersei immediately picked up the food and dropped it on the floor beside her. “Is that Indian? I can’t have Indian food stinking up my office; I have a meeting later.”

“I love Indian food,” replied Jaime.

“No, it’s too spicy for you.”

“It’s too spicy for you; I like it just fine.”

She rolled her eyes, still rearranging the documents. “You know, I don’t have time for lunch today.”

“Once again, let me help you.”

“You don’t even work here.”

“Because father insisted I go to college before I joined the company.”

“Something I didn’t have to do; just so we’re both clear.”

“We get it; you’re the smart one. I can still be helpful.”

“Okay. Why don’t you…” She scanned the room, looking for ideas. “Why don’t you find me a stapler? I can’t find one.”

Silence. Jaime stared at her in disbelief. She met his gaze steady on, refusing to back down.

“You know I may be an idiot, but I’m that stupid. You could try and be a little more subtle.”

“I’m sorry but you’re literally failing an intro class. Are you not?”

Jaime sighed. “I’m smarter than you give me credit for, Cersei.”

Cersei reached out and pulled him closer. He automatically wrapped his hands around her, enveloping her in a hug.

“Look, let’s not fight right now. I’m clearly worked up and you --” Cersei pulled away from him and stabbed a perfectly manicured finger into his chest as she continued. “You have classes and the thing for extra credit.”

Jaime groaned. “Don’t fucking remind me.”

“Language,” said a man from the doorway. He was impeccably dressed, the white hair on his head was balding and the wrinkles on his face were an imitation of Jaime’s. Tywin Lannister, the man behind Lannister Inc.

Jaime turned around and smiled politely as he spoke. “Sorry, father. It’s just been frustrating working with this woman. She… She hates me and I have no choice but to work with her.”

“And you want her to like you.”

“That would certainly make things easier.”

“No; what you need is for her to trust you. And son, stop always looking for the easy way out. Remember the big picture - this is just a blip on your way to getting a business degree. Don’t mess it up.”

Jaime hung his head a little as he nodded.

Tywin turned his attention to Cersei. “Speaking of messes, do we know why there is a 63 million dollar discrepancy in the accounts.”

“Not yet,” replied Cersei, her voice sheepish.

“Do try and find out before the company runs into the ground, will you?” He didn’t wait for her to reply as he left. Jaime and Cersei catch each other’s eye. Jaime clears his throat and points his thumb at the door.

“I’m gonna…”

“Yeah.”

Brienne tapped the desk in front of her, the only proof of her agitation. Otherwise, she sat straight - perfect posture - as she stared at the computer screen in front of her. A series of codes filled up the black screen, processing her input.

Her mind drifted off. This was easily the most absurd week of her life. Within less than 24 hours, her research went from being scrapped to saved and among it all, in ways she still couldn’t fully process, emerged a situation where she was stuck working with Jaime Lannister.

Supposedly. Of course, the man disappeared moments after Professor Stark left them alone. And he had barely shown up the rest of the week. A small part of her wondered what was the agreement he had with Catelyn. Because she doubted he was keeping up his end of it. She knew well enough that he wasn’t going to be doing any of the work, and still be receiving all of the credit. Typical male privilege. Brienne had experienced that better than anyone.

 _Typical male Lannister privilege_ , she quickly added.

At the end of the previous semester, Jaime Lannister was facing weeks of suspension. His admission was under question. Dean Aerys himself was involved. Not that she knew, or cared. No one did. Till one day, he was in the clear and Aerys Targaryen was forced into retirement. And then it was all anyone at WU could talk about.

Brienne personally couldn’t care less about Aerys Targaryen. She had met him once, at a mixer and he was a sexist pig. But it was a matter of principal. A university is a sacred place; politics and money shouldn’t have this much power in a place of learning.

Speaking of the devil - the door opened and Jaime entered the room. He took a seat opposite Brienne, rolling in his chair. He observed her briefly, taking in her straw blonde hair. Dull and flat, was his final appraisal.

She should have said something when he first walked in. Now it was too late to acknowledge his return; too awkward to start a conversation. The silence prickled the back of her neck. And it didn’t help that she could feel his eyes on her. She looked up, unable to help herself.

Her eyes were bright blue, like sapphires. They reminded him of a lake he saw once, in Oregon. It was a trip he took by himself, the first and only time he did that. It was one of his most cherished memories.

“What?” she asked, her voice gruff.

He blinked, his train of thought came to a halt as he was forced back into reality.

“What are we doing today?”

“What do you care?”

“You’re probably not smart enough to figure this out but we’re working on this research together.”

She stared at him, unbridled anger in her eyes. Her expression was deadpan, and yet he could read every single one of her emotions. Those fucking eyes. They were piercing into him.

He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, propping his legs up on the table.

“Legs off the table.”

He smirked; her response was expected and instantaneous.

“On one condition.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Whatever; keep them there.” She turned her eyes back to the screen in front of her.

“Tell me how you got into maths?” asked Jaime.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting to know my partner. We have a lot of time, wench. Why not kill it?”

Brienne didn’t reply, contemplating his words. Deconstructing them bit by bit, searching with skepticism for a trap. He sat up straighter, drawing attention to himself as he slowly lowered his legs back to the ground.

A gesture. Fuck. Fine.

“Eighth grade,” she said.

“Eighth grade? That’s early.”

“Maths makes sense. There’s a clear right or wrong. The square root of four is two.”

“I get it.”

“You do?”

Jaime shrugged. “Everything else in eighth grade is ambiguous as fuck. It can’t be easy; especially not for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I… I just meant that you craved some stability. Probably.”

“Don’t pretend you know my life, Lannister.”

Jaime rolled his eyes and raised his hands in surrender.

“Look, I… Around that time, my mother died. Giving birth to my brother. Everything went to shit after that; I don’t really… I don’t really want to talk about it. But that’s what our therapist said we should do. Have some stability in our lives.”

Brienne’s expression softened.

“You had a therapist?”

Jaime stiffened, realizing the implication of what he had just confessed.

“You can’t… you can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“If you do; if you even tell one person we will sue you so far off the earth, you’re going to have to come up with a whole new identity to get a job cleaning the bathrooms in McDonald's.”

“I said, I won’t,” replied Brienne, an edge in her voice.

The tension in the room was palpable. Eager to change the topic, Brienne spoke up.

“Look, I haven’t had lunch yet. Would you mind checking the numbers? Once the program completes processing, we have to input a new set. Just call me when -- give me your phone.”

Jaime frowned as he fished it out of his pocket, unlocked it and handed it over.

Brienne took in the home screen - a picture of him and presumably his brother and sister as children. She bit back a small smile as she punched in her number.

“Call me when the program is done processing,” she said, as she handed the phone back.

“Or you know, I could just input the new set of data.”

Brienne hesitated. This was Jaime Lannister. But this was also someone who went into grief counseling at 13; who had a picture of their siblings as their home screen. What the hell.

“Sure,” she replied, opening a notebook lying nearby. Jaime smiled at her as she flipped through the pages.

The Red Keep, aka, the university cafeteria was almost deserted. A few students sat lonesome at their tables, engrossed in their phones - headphones plugged in. A couple had stacked chairs next to each other and were laid out on them, taking a nap.

Brienne walked past them, nonplussed and decided on a corner table for herself. She needed time to breathe. What the fuck had just happened? Just when she thought she had him pegged, when she had finally processed; something new happened. It was like playing a video game, and just when you think you have successfully finished it, a secret new level emerged.

Though she didn’t usually mind. She liked video games. Maybe this wasn’t the best analogy. Before she could think of a better one, a loud bang distracted her.

A food tray clattered on the floor across the cafeteria. The owner of the tray was undoubtedly the brown haired boy cowering underneath a mountain of a man.

Brienne glanced around the room. A few people looked up at the noise, only to immediately go back to what they were doing. Did no one care? She turned back to the duo; the mountain held the boy by the collar. The hem of his button up shirt peeked out from his pants, his tie askew.

Fuck it. Brienne marched up to them.

“What the hell is going on here?” she demanded.

The mountain let go of the boy, who was nearly choking and turned on her. She watched the surprised on his face as he registered that he was, in fact, speaking to a woman. She decided to ignore him. Still aware of his presence, should it come down to a fight, she turned to the boy.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

The mountain, realizing the situation was getting out his control, pushed Brienne from the back. In an instant, she punched him in the throat. He stepped back, dazed as the tears formed in his eyes.

She allowed herself a moment of smugness. Years of self-defense was finally paying off. He stood up, angrier than ever and not willing to be taken down by a woman. He had his hands around her throat, choking her.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

She brought her arms up and smacked down on his wrists. She smacked her head against his. His grip loosened and for good measure, she kneed him in the groin. He yelled out in agony and curled up on the floor.

By this time, almost everyone in the room was staring at them. She gently massaged her throat and turned back to the boy.

“I’m Brienne.”

“Podrick Payne.”

“Nice to meet you, Pod --” Her phone buzzed at that moment. It was a text from Jaime. She quickly read it and frowned.

“I have to go. But if someone needs me for this mess.” She jabbed her thumb at the broken man behind her. “I’ll be in Winterfell.”

Podrick nodded as she left, grabbing her tray of food on the way out. He stared at her retreating figure, an expression of awe on his face. He felt like he could cry. He had his very own knight in shining armor.

His phone also buzzed as a reminder went off. Fuck.

Podrick bit his nails as he sat in a plush cushioned chair in the reception at Lannister Inc. He looked visibly out of place. His appearance was just as disheveled as before; perhaps more as his tie was even more crooked and sweat beaded his forehead. A damp patch peeked from underneath his armpits. God! he hoped his interviewer was forgiving.

“Do I have any new messages? That meeting ran longer than I expected,” said Tywin Lannister, as he walked past the reception. Tyrion followed behind him, consulting a small notepad. He spoke in a slow drawl, his boredom clear.

“Professor Baelish called again; said he wanted another appointment with you.”

“Another appointment? Have I met him?”

“He cornered you last week. The tall gentleman?”

Tywin ignored Tyrion, distracted by the mess that was Podrick. He looked up and smiled sheepishly. Tywin kept his gaze fixed on Podrick; his eyes dead and soulless. Podrick cleared his throat and stood up, offering his hand.

“Mr. Lannister, I’m Podrick Payne.”

“Podrick Payne, how can we help you?”

“I… I’m here to interview for an internship with --”

“No, you’re not.”

Podrick frowned, confused. “No, I have an appointment with Mr. Bronn.”

Tywin smiled at him; a sharp and dangerous smile. “No, you don’t.” He turned to the receptionist. “Loras, does Mr. Bronn have an appointment with Mr. Payne?”

Loras, having witnessed the exchange, slowly shook his head. Tywin turned back to Podrick. “Anything else, Mr. Payne?”

Podrick shook his head.

“Excellent. I trust you can see yourself out.” Tywin didn’t wait for his response as he walked away. Podrick glanced at the receptionist who shrugged apologetically.

“Sorry about my father,” said Tyrion, who was still hovering in the reception. “He enjoys disapproving of people. It’s a fun hobby of his.”

Podrick let out a small laugh. “So my interview…”

Tyrion shook his head.

“Please; I’m the top of my class. I have excellent references and one of my projects almost won the Dayne grant. Here,” said Podrick as he thrust his resume in Tyrion’s hands.

“And you have a crooked tie. You would think a high ranking CEO as my father would have better priorities but he would argue you should dress for the job you want or some shit like that.”

Podrick slumped. His dejected expression making his eyes bigger than usual. Tyrion glanced at him and reached out for his resume.

“Tell you what; I’ll keep this on file. Just in case.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Mr…?”

“Tyrion.”

“Thank you, Tyrion.”

Tyrion waved him off. “One of these days, people are going to know my name.”

Podrick nodded, not quite sure what to make of that and turned towards the elevators.

Brienne’s face and throat were starting to bruise in the time it took her to get back to Winterfell. As she opened the door to her lab, the first thing she noticed was Jaime, hunched over the table, balancing a set of scales.

Scales that looked broken.

“It wasn’t me, I swear,” he said in the same breath as he looked up at her arrival.

The second thing she noticed was the cut across his cheek. And his lips looked swollen than before. Not too much, but a surely a little. Not that she was familiar with the shape of his lips.

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asked. She brought a tentative hand against her throat, remembering the soreness all at once. She didn’t know what to say. What does one say anyway?

He stepped closer, reaching out with a gentle hand but stopped himself. She didn’t. She pressed her finger against his cheek. Blood stained on her finger.

She frowned as she glanced back to the scales. Jaime opened his mouth to explain, or protest, or something. She cut him off.

“What the fuck happened to you?”


	3. Layered... like an onion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. Wifi was a bitch; took a day to get there but here we are.

“I stepped out of the room to get some coffee,” began Jaime. “I know I said I would stay here and look at the numbers, and I swear I was here the entire time. I just needed some caffeine.”

He was sitting by the table, staring into the mind-numbing abyss of computer code as it worked out the numbers. He had almost dozed off with his palm under his chin. His elbow slid off the table jerking him awake. And he knew that sleep wasn’t an option. He had to stay awake, to input the data numbers. Brienne would absolutely kill him if he didn’t. And so - coffee; shitty, vending machine coffee.

Brienne rummaged through a far off cupboard, her back to him. He wished he could see her face, her reaction.

He forged ahead with his story, uncertain of steady ground.

“I must have been gone for less than two minutes. Whoever this person was, they were probably waiting for a while. It must have been a planned attack.”

She turned to him with a first aid kit in her hand and an unreadable expression on her face. Gods help him, she had walls thicker than a fortress.

“Anway, when I walked back in, he was at the computer and he had a ski mask on. So, I didn’t really think, I just… jumped him. We got into a… well, you can see.” He pointed at the mess, the chair upturned, the broken scales, the trashed equipment - left untouched in its place.

“How do you know it was a him?” asked Brienne.

“I heard him. His voice, the way he moved, his built - I could be wrong, but pretty sure it was a guy,” he replied, his voice sharp and tense.

She nodded and pointed at the chair. He obeyed, sitting on the lab stool. She sat opposite to him. He winced as she pressed a disinfectant-soaked cotton swab against his cheek. He was certain he could patch himself up. He knew that; she had to know it too. Oddly enough, he didn’t mind.

Her touch was soft; it reminded him of his mom. Of a different, more innocent time. She applied a bandaid and move away, throwing away the cotton and closing the first aid box. He already felt the absence of her hand and as he watched her, he felt so… disgustingly vulnerable.

She pulled out her phone, tapping at the screen. He wanted to ask her; the words on the tip of his tongue. _"Do you believe me?_ ” Instead -

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Professor Stark.”

Right. Of course, she was. She probably called Stark with her grocery list… She definitely was a grocery list kind of a person.

“This needs to be reported; she’ll be able to talk to the university and make sure whoever did this is caught.”

And just like that, he let out a small sigh of relief. The tension drain from every single cell in his body. She believed him.

His brain cleared up, and he could focus. He followed her movements as she paced, the phone pressed against her ear. He took in the bruises along the arch of neck. What had happened to _her_?

She hung up and turned to him. He cleared his throat, emerging from his reverie.

“Someone from security and admin is going to be here, first thing tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? This is unacceptable. They need to be here, right now.”

“I know. You were assaulted but --”

“Our research could have been compromised.”

Brienne didn’t say anything. A smile broke out on her face. Despite everything that had happened that day - being strangled and beating someone up and watching her lab trashed and knowing her research, her baby was under attack - despite everything, this was going to go down as a good day in her book.

_Our research could have been compromised._

_Our research_

_Our_

Brienne shrugged. “The school filled with idiots.”

He let out a roar of laughter at that. She grinned and joined him, and then stopped, groaning. Her throat hurt too much.

“What happened there?” he asked.

“It’s a long story.”

“You can tell me on the way to the hospital.”

Brienne opened her mouth, ready to argue - he wasn’t going to take her anywhere. No way. But then she stopped herself. Why not?

The following morning was uneventful. The security tapes corroborated Jaime’s story, but they couldn’t tell who the man was but they would investigate further. The rest was jargon, official statements for paperwork that would lead nowhere, documents for him to sign so he couldn’t sue the school, everyone making sure everyone’s ass was secure. The administration would replace the equipment and fix the damages, and no one cared about what actually happened.

When he said that out loud to Brienne, she frowned.

“They said they’ll look into it,” she replied.

“Do you really think they will?”

“It’s in their own interest to investigate properly.”

Jaime shrugged and turned his attention back to the task at hand. He was going through Brienne’s notes, handwritten and scrawled across bits and pieces of paper and typing them out into something comprehensible. And then -

“Neither of us will work in here alone,” said Brienne, frowning.

“What? Can’t get enough of my company? I don’t blame you, wench. I have been known to seduce many a woman.”

“It’s not safe.”

“Sure. I can protect your honor.”

Brienne laughed out loud almost instinctively. “We both know that I would be the one protecting your honor.”

Jaime grinned back at her, unable to help himself.

 _“Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship_. _"_

Cersei knew she was an intelligent woman. When you were a Lannister, you didn’t have a choice. One of the most influential business women of her age; smarter than both her brothers combined. Not that it meant anything - Jaime was barely a Lannister and Tyrion was, for all intents, still a child. She was 16 when she followed her father to work. And she never stopped.

And yet, at that moment, there was nothing more she wished for than a long vacation, away from the office. There was a significant gap in the numbers; a billing mistake that should have been caught months ago.

She took a large swig from the bottle of red wine on her desk. Her father gave it to her when she first got the promotion. She had to fix it; there had to be a solution. There had to be.

There was a sharp knock.

Hurriedly, she put the bottle back and cleared her throat.

“Come i--”

The door opened and Tywin stepped into the office.

“Cersei,” he said. She flinched immediately. She knew exactly what he was going to say. “Why are there is a 13 million dollars unaccounted for in the annual numbers? Why was this not caught before? Why do I not have the name of the person responsible? And why --” He paused for a brief moment. “-- is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”

“Someone in the billing department --”

“Do you have a name?”

“Not yet. We’re still investigating.”

“Don’t bother. Apparently, I’m the only competent person in this company.”

Cersei met his eye, refusing to back down. “I can fix it.”

Tywin looked her up and down, appraising her and then -

“Send the documents to Tyrion.”

He turned to leave; the conversation was over.

“Dad, I --” He paused by the door and turned to face her ever so slightly. “Please.”

“You have until the end of the week. And Cersei, day drinking does not suit you.”

Cersei nodded as he left, the door slightly ajar. “Motherfucker,” she muttered under her breath as she moved to shut the door. Taking a few deep breaths, she pulled out her phone.

“Wench, you owe me ten bucks. It was --” Jaime’s phone rang, interrupting him. He saw the caller id and turned it off.

“It was the stoner kid?”

“Cough it up,” said Jaime, placing a bag of food on the table.

“Did you take a picture?”

“Of course not, I’m not a creep.”

“Well, I am not saying sneak on in. Ask his permission and then take a picture.”

“I’m not a weirdo either. Do you not trust me?”

Brienne laughed as she shook her head. “Fuck no.”

Jaime brought a hand to his chest, faking hurt. Brienne rolled her eyes as she passed him his food.

He was in the process of separating his chopsticks when his phone buzzed again. He ignored it as he continued. “I won fair and square.”

He struggled with the chopsticks, the noodles slipping. Brienne watched him, an amused expression on her face.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I want my ten bucks.”

“Fine; but I don’t want to play anymore. You always win.”

Jaime shook his head and spoke, his mouth full of noodles. “You correctly guessed that the old man would be wearing a Hawaiian shirt. That one time, what did we get?”

“Falafels. And that was once. We’ve been doing this for one month and I have won exactly one time.”

Jaime hummed noncommittally as his phone pinged, indicating a text message. He picked it up and typed out a quick reply. Brienne watched him for a moment and then, awkwardly turned to her food.

As he put his phone back, distracted, he spilled some on his t-shirt.

“Fuck!”

Grabbing at a napkin, he frantically started to dab at it. Brienne laughed, unabashedly. He scowled as he got up, throwing the napkin into the bin.

“Real smooth, Lannister.”

“I give up. Do we have any forks left over?”

Brienne nodded and pointed at a drawer behind him.

“Is this how you seduce all the ladies?”

He returned to the table, a plastic fork in hand. He didn’t respond, picking up his phone and typing. After a moment of silence -

“Who are you talking to?”

“Oh. No one.”

“You don’t need to do the whole mysterious guy thing.”

“No?”

“You’re the rich guy,” she said, with a shrug.

“Right.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, of course, I do. My last name’s Lannister. Well aware, thank you.”

“Besides, you’re mysterious enough.”

He looked up from his phone at that; one perfect eyebrow arched.

“I mean like layered,” she continued, gods only knew why. “Like an onion.” Fuck her. “You know, like layers that you just keep… peeling.” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

His mouth curled into a smirk. Smug bastard.

He pulled at the hem of his t-shirt. “I bet you would love to peel those layers,” he said.

She felt her face on fire. She knew she was redder than the sauce on his t-shirt. Fuck him. Fuck him to hell and back. And the worst part of it all was that she would. She would love that very much.

“The sauce will leave a permanent stain,” she answered. That was all she could trust herself to say.

He shrugged. “I can always buy a new one, right?”

“Right.”

Silence. He went back to texting. She resisted the urge to slap the stupid device out of his hand. To demand his undivided attention. What the fuck was happening to her?

Finally, he put the phone down, face down in a show of finality.

“To answer your question,” said Jaime, not quite meeting her eye. “I’m not that smooth with the ladies.”

“Yeah, right. You convinced the woman from Little Pizza to give you her number.”

“I told her about our bet and she agreed to help me. The truth is… I’ve never even had a girlfriend.”

Oh. Brienne didn’t know how to respond to that.

“I mean, I’ve had one night stands and hookups, but never anything…” he trailed off and then, finally meeting her eye, “Real.”

Brienne felt her stomach swoop and slide onto the floor. Her heart was in her throat. _What the fuck was happening to her?_ She couldn’t; could she be falling for Jaime Lannister? What was wrong with her? She didn’t stand a chance with him. He couldn’t know. He could never know.

He frowned, looking at her. He was looking at her. No doubt, confused. Waiting for a response. That was a major confession. Who would have thought - Jaime Lannister has a secret soft side. He really was an onion.

“Oi,” she said at last. “I gave you 20 bucks for that girl’s number. And you cheated?”

He laughed, a bright grin taking over his entire face.

There was a lightness in him; a sense of elation that he carried with him throughout the day. He smiled and nodded at Loras as he passed the reception at Lannister Inc. Striding down the corridor until he reached Cersei’s office.

Knock. Knock.

He pushed open the door, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey.”

Cersei looked up and upon seeing him, her nostrils flared. “I don’t have time for you.”

“You okay?”

“Fine. No thanks to you.”

“Cersei, I --”

“No. I needed you today, and you weren’t there.”

“I was working.”

“You don’t have a job.”

“I was with Brienne; we were working.”

“She needs to stop using you just because she can’t do her own job.”

“She isn’t…And she can. Look, you can’t blame her something that isn’t even her fault.”

“No; you’re right. I don’t blame her.”

“Good.”

“I blame Catelyn Stark.”

Jaime let out a slow groan. “Cersei, can I actually help you with something?”

Hurt flashed across her face for a brief moment. And then, with her jaw set and teeth clenched, she shook her head.

“Just leave.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t have time to make you feel good about yourself right now. You weren’t there when I needed you and turns out, I don’t actually need you.”

“Fine,” said Jaime, turning on his heel.

What a rubbish way to end a great day. He loved Cersei very much; she was his best friend. But sometimes, just sometimes, she could be beyond infuriating. He spent the night tossing and turning, fragments of his fight with Cersei seeping into his unconscious.

When he met Catelyn Stark in the morning, dark circles had formed under his eyes. Proof that he was capable of love.

“Good morning, Jaime,” she said, greeting him with a smile as she opened her office door and let them both inside.

“That’s debatable,” he replied, talking more to himself than addressing her.

“Well, I have some news that might make it better.”

Jaime looked on eagerly and she smiled at him, a warmth he never expected from her. Definitely not addressed to him.

“You’re in the clear. You have completed the required hours for your extra credit; I informed the school administration and they will update your status within the next 24 hours.”

“Really?”

“You just have to sign here,” said Catelyn, pulling open her desk drawer and passing a document to him. He picked a pen from the stand on her desk and signed.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he said, getting up.

Catelyn looked confused for a moment before nodding. “You’re a business major.”

Jaime nodded. “If that’s all… I have a class.”

“Of course,” said Catelyn. After a brief hesitation, she added, “Mr. Lannister, you did well. Brienne has nothing but positive things to say about you.”

Jaime smiled, a soaring feeling in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt such intense pride in himself.

“Thank you, Professor Stark.”

“There are some statistics scholarships and grants you could apply for; if you put your mind to it. I would be happy to write a letter of recommendation.”

“Thank you, but I’m a business major.”

She nodded and he closed the door shut on his way out. He glanced at his watch; maybe he could take a detour before class. Maybe if he ran. Why the hell not?

By the time he reached the lab, he was officially panting. He stopped outside the door for a moment to catch his breath and wipe off the sweat from his forehead.

“Oi, Wench, you here?”

She ought to be if he remembered her schedule correctly. They had tried to make sure that they would only work if the other person was present. For safety. But schedules didn’t sync up as frequently as he would have liked, and after the first ten days without a repeat of the incident, they agreed to work alone when needed. Otherwise, it would take her the rest of her life and his undergrad to get her Ph.D.

Sure enough, she emerged from the back just as his phone buzzed. It was Cersei.

_“Did you take my highlighters on your way out yesterday?”_

Jaime rolled his eyes as he read her text. _“Real subtle,”_ he replied.

“Hey, don’t you have class right now?” said Brienne. He looked up from his phone and grinned.

“I do; I just had to pop in with the good news.”

“What’s that?”

“Remember when I told you I’m doing this for extra credit?”

Brienne nodded. It was the day after he was attacked. She couldn’t shake her curiosity; why was he invested in the project. What was the reason? He had eventually caved in and admitted the truth. He seemed embarrassed by it, and she had made a mental note to never bring it up again.

“Well, I’m done. I passed the class, so… I don’t need to do this anymore.”

“That’s… good news, indeed,” she replied, straining to keep her voice neutral and light. She was just an extra-credit. Of course, he was glad to be done with the project; why would he want to spend his days in this stupid mathematics research lab. It didn’t even have windows.

“And good riddance,” she added, laughing a little. Her laugh sounded hollow, even to her. Would he notice? He expression changed a little. She could tell. It was such short a time but she was already acutely familiar with his expressions.

He didn’t say anything; it just dawned on him what that meant. He wouldn’t get to see her anymore. His phone buzzed again and he glanced down, instinctively.

“There you go; half out the door already,” said Brienne, wishing she didn't sound so bitter. 

“It’s Cersei.”

“Your sister? Everything okay?”

“She’s going through something at work,” he replied. “You know, I love her. I do, but…” he hesitated for a brief second.

Should he tell her? But of course; this was Brienne. He trusted her.

“I worry about her. My father believes in his ambition above anything else. That’s how we were raised. But among the three of us, Cersei… she takes his word as gospel. Sometimes I think she can be colder than him. It’s like she has to prove something. ”

“How do you mean?”

“It’s just… she will do whatever it takes to succeed. Draw no lines. And I believe there should be a line. Power, unchecked, can be heady and maddening. I know this first hand.”

“First hand?”

He checked his watch. “I’m running late.”

“Wait! Jaime,” said Brienne, stopping him by the door. “Do you… do you not want to continue in your father’s footsteps?”

He shrugs, unsure. “I love my family.”

“I know. That’s not how I meant that.”

“I know.”

“Look, I talked to Professor Stark. She told me that you might not be joining anymore. But I think that’s a mistake. I think, I mean, if you want to, I think you should stay. It could help you figure out non-business options. If you want to. I mean, be a part of the research and I mean it properly. Permanently. Not for extra credit, but because you want to.”

“Who says I want to?” he said, smirking, teasing.

She grinned. “You’re late for your class. Think about it.”

He raised a hand in farewell and left.

Cersei couldn’t remember the last time she had come to the office hungover. Fighting with Jaime didn’t come naturally to her. It was a twin thing. They knew each other inside out; he saw right through her text. Dick.

Nursing a strong coffee and poring through the numbers, over and over again till a solution or a loophole magically appeared - that seemed to be the agenda of the day. And then there was a knock on her door.

“Come in,” she replied, confused. She didn’t have a meeting with anyone that morning. A tall, sleazy looking man opened the door.

“How can I help you?”

He smiled, thrusting his hand forward. “Petyr Baelish, associate professor. And turns out, I can help you.”

“Mr. Baelish, do we have an appointment?”

He didn’t answer, pulling out a file from his bag. He passed it on to her. More numbers.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Proof; that Catelyn Stark, a professor at --”

“I know exactly who Catelyn Stark is.”

“She has been embezzling money from the Winterfell Statistics department for months. It comes up to about 15 million dollars.”

“15 million dollars?” She looked up at the figure. “This sounds like a case for the police. Why are you here, Mr. Baelish?”

“The Lannisters are the largest donors at Westeros University.”

“Indeed. And why are _you_ here?”

“The Lannisters are also businessmen. I am here to do business.”


	4. You can't undrink all that wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1) Apologies for missing an update last week. Basically, I started a new job and didn't account for how it would affect my writing time. But we're all good now and hopefully back on track for weekly Friday updates. 
> 
> 2) I know I started writing this out of spite for what d&d did to Jaime and Brienne in s8 and while I'm still upset, my motivations for writing this have changed. Somehow this fic has taken a life of its own and it's kinda more than a spite fic. So on that note, I would really like for it to have its own title. If anyone has any ideas, please leave them in the comments. 
> 
> 3) Also, I really truly don't know shit about stats or maths or business or embezzlement or companies or accounts or anything. Please please please just go along with whatever shit I make up. Thank you.

Cersei leaned against her car, parked outside a large mansion. She took a swig out of an ornate flask as she stared, an unmistakable smile on her face. She stood there, alone and content as she waited. Soon after, another car pulled up next to hers. Jaime emerged, reserved judgments and peaked curiosity.

“Pre-gaming, are we?” he asked in a manner of greeting. Cersei shook her head and passed the flask to him. He readily accepted.

“Celebrating.”

He knocked it back.

The interior of the house was just as glamorous as the exterior. High ceilings, marble floors. Spacious, as Cersei would say. Or empty, as Jaime recollected. A butler ushered them inside, taking their coats and guiding them towards a dining table. Once upon a time, it hosted large dinner parties - events of joy and spectacle. But neither sibling would be able to recollect it. The last time Tywin Lannister hosted a dinner party, they were four going five. Tyrion wasn’t even born. And then he was.

They seated themselves at one end of the table. Cersei poured herself a glass of red wine and then moved to Jaime. He immediately covered the top of his glass, stopping her.

“I’ll take the white,” he said in a manner of explanation.

Tyrion arrived as he poured himself a glass of Chardonnay.

“Pour me one too.”

They sipped on their drinks, talking mindlessly waiting for their father to join them. Just as Tyrion bemoaned his hunger, Tywin appeared in the doorway.

He lingered for a moment before fully entering the room. As he greeted his children, Tyrion muttered under his breath. "And he claims he doesn't care for dramatics."

"Shall we begin," said Tywin, a statement than a question. He waved at the butler, who stepped into the kitchen. Jaime poured Tywin a glass of wine as they settled into the dinner.

"We're celebrating," said Jaime, and then looked at Cersei, who nodded.

"I figured it out - the 13 million dollars we were short off; they’re going to be accounted for.”

Tywin's eyes flickered in surprise, but he hid it well. Unlike Jaime or Tyrion, the latter's eyebrows had reached his hairline.

"I see," said Twyin.

"How did you --" Jaime began to ask but was immediately cut off by Cersei raising her glass. Everyone else followed suit.

"And to Jaime," said Cersei, smiling brightly at him. "On finally completing his extra credit."

"Actually, I --”

“It’s about time,” said Twyin, raising his glass and taking a sip. Focused entirely on Jaime, he continued. “Now that you’re back on track, it would do you good to spend more time at the office. You need to start learning how to run a company.”

Jealousy briefly flashed through Cersei’s eyes. Tyrion rolled his own as he chugged his wine, dribbling a little.

“And to me,” said Tyrion, “Forever on coffee duty.”

Tywin fixed his trademarked disapproving stare onto Tyrion. “Fix yourself up.” Tyrion hung his head as he wiped the wine from his face. Jaime offered him an apologetic look and then turned to Tywin.

“Actually, I was thinking of staying on, helping with the research. It would be good for my resume and --”

“Why?” This time, it’s Cersei who interrupted him. Her simple question sounded like a trap and a challenge all at once. Jaime frowned, recognizing it - He could always read her even when no one else could.

“It has a lot of potential, and it would be good to have my name on a research like this,” he answered tentatively. He braced himself for her response but she didn’t have to say anything.

“Your name is Lannister. And it is already on the biggest company in the industry,” said Tywin.

Jaime didn’t reply, an unreadable expression on his face. Cersei wrapped her hand around his, smiling sweetly. “Besides, you don’t need a statistics research paper on your resume. I’m sure father knows exactly how capable you are.”

“Right,” answered Jaime. He glanced at Tyrion for support, who had a bitter smile on his face. His shrug conveyed a “ _Sorry, mate_ ”.

After dinner, Jaime and Tyrion walked back together to Jaime’s car. Cersei stayed behind, citing important company business that she had to discuss with Twyin. No one addressed the fact that Tyrion too worked there.

“Need a ride?” he asked Tyrion. Tyrion shook his head.

“I think I’m going to walk, clear my head.”

“You can’t undrink all that wine.”

“Aye, and nor would I want to.”

Jaime shook his head, his concern for his brother temporarily distracting him from his own thoughts.

“I’m worried about you,” he admitted quietly.

“And I, you.”

“Me?”

“What could possibly have possessed you to propose continuing with that absurd research project? And to admit it in front of father. What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t realize that our father concerned himself with the minutiae of our lives.”

“This little project of yours; It’s proof of your failure. And the man loathes failure,” replied Tyrion. “Trust me.”

Jaime pondered over Tyrion’s words. Before he could reply, Tyrion spoke up again.

“Podrick Payne.”

Jaime looked at Tyrion, his confusion evident.

“He’s a student at WU. Came in for an interview some time back. He wasn’t a good fit for the company, but he could be your replacement.”

“What’s his resume?”

“Software engineering. Coding. Would fit well with statistics.” Pause. “Or you know, you could say fuck it all and do what you want.”  
  
Jaime chuckled. “He would be livid.”

“Oh, he’d take your hide. But who cares, right?”

Jaime didn’t answer, leaning against the car and turning his sights onto the mansion behind him. Jaime followed suit. The two brothers stood next to each other. A pleasant breeze enveloped them for a few moments of silence. And then -

“You’re not a failure, Tyrion.”

“I know,” said Tyrion.

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride?”

Tyrion pushed off against the car and smiled at Jaime. “I’m going to be fine. Thank you.”

Jaime nodded as he turned and walked away. He observed Tyrion’s retreating figure for a while, still thinking before driving away.

When Brienne stepped into the lab the next day, Jaime busy setting up a coffee maker, its box discarded nearby. He had his back turned to her and clearly hadn't heard her come in.

"Good morning," said Brienne, her voice bright and perky. Fuck. When did she become perky? He straightened quickly in surprise. His eyes flashed with something unreadable but before Brienne could think about it, he spoke.

"Hey. Morning."

"What's that?" she asked, setting her bag aside.

"A coffee maker; no more shitty vending machine coffee."

Brienne frowned. "I don't think we can afford that."

"It's a gift."

"From whom?"

"Me," replied Jaime, after a brief moment of hesitation.

"Oh."

_Oh._

"Not going to join me then, are you?" she asked, her voice strained despite her attempt to keep it normal. She was going to be so fucking nonchalant even he would be surprised.

"I wanted to," he began. She scoffed. Likely story.

"I really did, but my father thinks I should focus on my studies. Remember the big plan and all that."

Brienne hummed and turned away, hoping he would leave soon.

"Are you mad?"

"It's your life."

"You seem mad."

"I just never pegged you as a coward."

Jaime stepped back from her, a pained expression on his face. She didn’t notice, as she faced away from him.

"I’m not --”

She wheeled around as she cut him off, almost towering over him.

“You’re too scared to step out of daddy’s shadow; you don’t know what you want or who you are without him and you’re too fucking scared to find out.”

“You don’t know me, wench.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m not going to turn my back on my family.”

“Actually, I do know you. I knew you from the moment you stepped into my lab. You’re a Lannister.”

Jaime flinched. He had known his entire life that his last name carried weight; in the past few months he had known the weight could get heavy, but never before had he known it to sting. Till that moment.

He didn’t say anything; didn’t trust himself to speak. She didn’t either. She met his eyes, refusing to backtrack. Of course, she wouldn’t backtrack; she was stubborn as a fucking bull, wasn’t she?

He fished out the file Tyrion had given him and threw it across the table. “Fuck you,” he said as he left.

A resounding silence filled up the room. Brienne picked up the file and opened it.

Tyrion knocked on Tywin’s door and poked his head inside. Behind him stood Cersei and Baelish, carrying a laptop and a file respectively.

“Cersei and Petyr Baelish are here --”

“Let them in,” replied Tywin. “Welcome again, Mr Baelish,” he said, greeting them and gesturing toward the chairs on the other side of the desk. They seated themselves; Cersei pulling up documents on her laptop.

“As I mentioned the last time we met,” began Baelish.

“You suspected Professor Stark of embezzlement,” said Twyin. “I remember.”

“I now have more proof.”

“While we appreciate your efforts, I told you last time that we aren’t offering rewards. Lannister Inc. doesn’t meddle in the WU’s affairs. Do you have anything new to offer us?”

“15 million dollars,” said Cersei, interrupting the two men with a small roll of her eyes. “That’s the missing amount. And you’re right, we don’t interfere in the university affairs. That’s why we need Mr. Baelish.”

Tywin looked between Baelish and Cersei and then leaned back in his chair. “Explain.” Baelish cleared his throat to speak but Cersei silenced him with a look and a fake smile.

“The company accounts show an inconsistency of 13 million dollars. Thanks to Mr. Baelish, we now have a name to pin it on.”

“The numbers don’t add up.”

“That’s where I--”

“That’s where Mr. Baelish comes in,” said Cersei. “He can access the Statistics and Mathematics department numbers. He can make sure everything adds up.”

“For a price of course,” said Baelish.

“The difference,” said Tywin, understanding.

“We can cut our losses,” said Cersei. Tywin didn’t say anything for a moment, contemplating everything over in his mind. After a deep breath, he nodded, directing a small, proud smile towards his daughter.

She held her cool, even as she felt fireworks bursting inside her.

Brienne stared aghast as she opened the lab door the next day. She was prepared for it to be empty; no more Jaime and good riddance too. His incessant chatter drove her insane anyway. She was prepared for the quiet. And the comfort of a good day’s work.

What she wasn’t expecting was the mess in front of her. Tables upturned, equipment smashed in, charts shredded into pieces, documents flung onto the floor. There wasn’t a single thing left unscathed.

She stepped further into the room, her book bag cast aside. She stopped as her boot made a crunching noise. Glass shards. She fell onto her knees. Tears also came unexpectedly. Fast and hot and uncontrollable. This was too much; she was only one person.

She reached out and picked up what remained of the coffee machine, a small hiss escaping her as the glass cut into her hands.

“What are you doing?”

The voice jolted her back into reality. A young man stood in the doorway. She recognized him immediately.

“Did you beat up someone else?” he asked, his voice full of awe. Podrick Payne.

“Someone broke into the lab.”

“Oh. Not to be a dick but… is the interview still on?”

Brienne frowned and shook her head. “I have to talk to people.” She fished out her phone as she replied. She called Catelyn, the phone pressed against her ear but no response.

“I have to report this.”

“Alright then,” replied Podrick, dejected.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Brienne muttered to herself as called Catelyn again. No answer.

“Do you need any help?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“I should go with you; to the admin offices. I could be a potential witness,” said Podrick. “And you know, we could do my interview after.”

Brienne fixed him a look, her phone still pressed against her ear.

“Please, they won’t give me my financial aid if I don’t have an internship.”

“Fine,” said Brienne. “You’re studying coding?”

He nodded.

“How does that help me?”

Podrick looked at the mess surrounding them. “You’re going to need help.”

“Fuck!” exclaimed Brienne, putting her phone away. Still no response from Catelyn. “This is my research. I can do it on my own. I was fine on my own before, and I still am,” she added, addressing Podrick.

“You know, coding is a lot like maths and stats,” pushed Podrick, desperate as he felt his window of opportunity closing. “It seems straightforward, but it’s like a puzzle. It’s tricky. And there’s always this hidden layer.”

“The square root of four is two.”

“Yeah; that’s right. But that’s only a part of the answer, right?”

“The square root of four is also negative two.”

“Exactly. A hidden layer. That’s the fun of it; all that grey area. Don’t you think, Ms. Brienne?”

Brienne frowned, contemplating his words. But before she could say anything, her phone rang. Catelyn. She picked it up with urgency.

“Catelyn, I’m sorry to disturb you --” said Brienne but was cut off by Catelyn. Podrick watched as her expression changed; the creases in her brow deepening with every passing second. She finally nodded as she hung up.

Brienne pulled at the lapel of her coat. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, sitting in the stiff, uncomfortable plastic chair outside the conference room three. It was typically used for smaller classes but the past week had observed its slow takeover by the legal department, coppers, a couple of government officials and even someone from the tax department. It was already a public scandal, even though the investigation wasn’t over.

That’s why she was there, wasn’t she? To give her version of the events. What events though, she wondered. Catelyn’s lawyer had reached out to her, said that her testimony was of the utmost importance. She was a character witness.

Everything about her life was falling apart. She was tired, physically and emotionally. And all she really wanted was --

Jaime stepped out of the conference room. She stood up and automatically stepped towards him.

“Hey,” she said, her eyes taking him in. She tried to memorize his face, the green eyes, his stubble, a jawline that could cut through a diamond, a nose that started out flat and then arched, his perfectly crooked teeth - Gods, she missed him. It had only been a week but for them, it was a long time. She hadn’t realized how much she had gotten used to him.

“They’re ready for you.” That was all he said; his voice hollow, his eyes betraying furious anger.

She swallowed deeply, not trusting herself to speak just yet. And when she started to speak, it was too late. “What did they ask you?” she started to ask him but he was already moving down the corridor.

"What did they ask you?"

"How are you?"

"Do you hate me?"

"Can we be friends again?"

The unspoken words stuck on the tip of her tongue and her heart broke. But this wasn't the time or the place. She cleared her throat, squared her shoulders and then knocked. This was Catelyn's time.  


	5. He wouldn't mind it at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 more chapters left. This was honestly the one I was most looking forward to! Hope you like it :) 
> 
> (Also I'm looking for permanent fic title ideas so feel free leave your thoughts in the comments.)

Brienne stepped into her lab, hours later, more confused than before. Catelyn had been fired. It made no sense. It was wrong; Brienne couldn’t shake that feeling and yet -- Embezzling. The investigation felt more like protocol. It seemed to her that their minds were already made up. They said they had concrete evidence.

She deposited her coat and bag on a table, still lost in thought. Going over the little information they had given her; the few facts, in her head.

Logic came easy to her. Use the data you have to derive a conclusion. That was maths. That was statistics. That was her. Logic dictated that Catelyn Stark had embezzled money from Westeros University. And yet, she knew in her gut that that wasn’t true.

Fingers snapping in front of her face brought her back to reality.

“Ms. Brienne? Hello?” said Podrick, his brows all bunched up together on his forehead. Sweet Podrick; he had offered to help her clean up the place even though she told she couldn’t promise him a job. She didn’t know if she even had one anymore.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked how the interview go, but I’m guessing bad?”

Brienne nodded. “She is definitely fired.”

“Did you -- Of course you didn’t know; but did you think that she…” Podrick trailed off, unable to formulate the question that was on the tip of his tongue.

_Did she think that Catelyn Stark committed a federal crime?_

“I should get back to work,” replied Brienne.

“About that,” said Podrick. “You had a call from the administration.”

Brienne looked up.

“They said they will look into the break-in. And in the meantime, school insurance will pay for the damages.”

“So… we’re good?”

“I guess. They didn’t sound particularly concerned about the break-in; they just wanted you to keep working.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Yeah. They will replace the equipment and fix the damages, and no one will actually care about what happened.”

“You don’t think they’ll look into it?”

Brienne shook her head.

“It’s fine. I’ll fill out the paperwork and…” She smiled at him. “Podrick, why don’t you email me your paperwork too. I’ll sort it all together.”

Podrick beamed at her. “Does that mean…”

“Yes.”

“Good; because I was going to offer to look into the security.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just look through surveillance, security codes for the doors and so on. Maybe I can uncover something.”

“Would this be…” Brienne trailed off. It took him a minute to catch up with her.

“Uhh… It’s a grey area.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I will be careful; I promise.”

“Let me think on it.”  
  
Podrick nodded.

Brienne pulled open her laptop (a personal one, since the lab computers were still in pieces) and got to work. She needed the distraction and nothing better than mind-numbing paperwork.

“You had your interview a couple days back, didn’t you? Did you see her?” asked Cersei, the minute he stepped into the office. His heart leaped into his throat. How did she know?

“Catelyn Stark; was she there?”

Oh.

“No.”

“Shame,” replied Cersei as they began walking down the hallway. “It would have been quite satisfying, after all the pain she caused you.”

“Shut up, Cersei.”

He surprised himself by his curtness but he didn’t regret it. He walked away from her, his mood quite put off. What a start to his first day of work, ever. He groaned internally, as Tyrion offered him an encouraging smile. More of a grimace, really.

He knocked on his father’s cabin door but his mind was decidedly elsewhere.

The interview had been… unexpected. Not his first one, of course. He knew how to make a good impression. He has pressed his best suit (or rather, gotten it pressed) and spent far too much time styling his hair, making sure that one stray strand fell into his eyes just right. He had practiced what to say, how to say it.

_Did you see her?_

He wasn’t surprised to see _her_. He almost expected it. What he hadn’t expected was to see her in a suit. She had looked like she would fit perfectly in his world, with Cersei and Tywin and other minions he was currently surrounded by. And, gods, she would love Tyrion. They’d probably go out for drinks and have a laugh at his expense. And he would protest, of course, he would, but a part of him wouldn’t mind it. No, he wouldn’t mind it at all.

But it didn’t matter. Sure, the only thing he could think about for the past few days was wrapping his arms around her and comforting her. Telling her she would be okay; that Catelyn would be okay. That it magically work itself out. Sure, one time he dreamed of her, of them, in the lab laughing over pizza. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered because they weren’t talking.

Or he wasn’t. Not after everything. Not even when she approached him with a ‘hey’ on her lips, wearing a dark navy suit. A suit that brought out the bright blue in her eyes, contrasted with her stale blonde hair. A suit that wrapped itself around her in a way that… He swallowed lightly and shook his head, reminding himself of his surroundings.

He was sitting behind Tywin; supposedly observing him read papers for hours on end would automatically teach him how to run the company. A load of bollocks if you asked him; no wonder Tyrion hated his life.

The familiar sound of her alarm rang out, filling up the room. Brienne reached over and turned it off. She went back to staring at the ceiling. A few minutes later, the alarm piped up again. She turned over to her side, picking up her phone. She turned off the alarm and was surprised to see two notifications. She didn’t usually get messages from people.

The first was a message from her dad, checking in to say hi. She typed out a quick reply. As she backed out of the app, she noticed her recent messages. She ignored it...him… the pang in her chest. She clicked on the second notification - an email from WU.

She frowned as she read.

_As you are well aware, every Ph.D. student must work under the guidance and supervision of a full-time faculty member… blah blah blah… please select a new advisor… da da da… April 20th or one will be assigned to you._

What the fuck?

Brienne reread the email two more times before the implications fully hit her. She could feel the blood boiling in her veins. She pulled open her messages. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Jaime watched as his brother bent awkwardly in the middle of the hallway, picking up scattered paper. He had been holed up Tywin’s office for nearly a week and this was the sight to greet him as he stepped out. As Tyrion stood up, he spotted Jaime.

“You could’ve have helped me,” he said, scowling. He started walking down the hallway and Jaime fell into step next to him.

“What happened?”

“What do you think happened? I felt like making it rain. No. Some asshole knocked over these papers,” replied Tyrion. “And my will to live.”

Jaime laughed and then stopped. “How pathetic is it that I don’t remember the last time I laughed?”

“Welcome to Lannister Inc.”

They had reached the copies alcove. Tyrion opened a machine and placed the pages under the scanner. They stood in silence, listening to it creak.

“This is humiliating,” said Tyrion, after a moment.

Jaime didn’t meet his eye, not quite sure what to say. After another beat of silence, he said, “Come on, let’s go out tonight. I’ll buy.”

Tyrion shook his head. “I’m quitting.”

“What? The job? Father will kill you.”

“Drinking.”

“Okay,” scoffed Jaime. “I’m having a shit day; you’re having a shit day. Let’s do this. Okay?” Tyrion didn’t answer. “8? I’ll text you the address.” Jaime clapped him on the back and walked away.

Brienne pressed the buzzer and waited patiently. The house was much larger than she had expected but Podrick said this was the address. The door opened. A small girl, brandishing a long cardboard sword and a pirate eye patch looked her in the eye.

“If you are here to make mommy upset, then I will stab you,” she declared.

“Arya!”

The door opened further to reveal a slightly older girl chastising Arya. Her face was the exact replica of Catelyn and presumably, she was Arya’s elder sister. Arya stuck out her tongue and ran back into the house.

She faced Brienne, a polite smile almost masking her distrust.

“I came to see Professor Stark, I mean, Catelyn. Is this a bad time?”

“How did you get this address?”

Fuck. She was good.

“It’s important that I see her. Is she home? I’m Brienne, her student.”

“Do you have an id?”

Brienne nodded and fished out her wallet from her bag. The girl took a glance at the id, holding it the light. Brienne bit back a smile at that. She doubted the girl knew what to look for but she had deemed it authentic because she asked her to come in.

Brienne sat in an antique chair, in the living room while she waited. The girl returned after a few minutes, a cup of tea in her hand.

“I’m Sansa. Mum will be out in a minute.”

Brienne thanked her as she took the tea. She hadn’t hesitated when she messaged Podrick and told him to do it - to look into the break-ins, to find out Catelyn’s address - rules be damned. There hadn’t been a single moment of doubt as made her way to the house. She exuded confidence as she pressed the bell.

But sitting there, all she wanted was to make a run for it. She tried to make herself small, disappearing into the chair. Whatever had snapped inside her was fixing itself right back up in Catelyn Stark’s living room.

“Brienne,” greeted Catelyn, coming down the stairs, a wide smile on her face. Brienne exhaled in relief, smiling back. She reached out and hugged Catelyn, a move that surprised even herself.

“How have you been? How’s the research going? Did Jai -- Mr. Lannister take up your offer?

“How are you?” asked Brienne.

“I’m doing alright. I suppose you’re familiar with the details.”

“Yes. But I don’t believe it.”

“I didn’t you would; your testimony was,” Catelyn hesitated, searching for the right words. “It was very kind.”

Brienne smiled, a little uncomfortable. “So, do you know what’s happening? Do they have evidence against you? Or do they know if someone else is a suspect?”

“I think I’m going to be okay. If their evidence was concrete, they wouldn’t still be investigating, right?”

“Is someone trying to frame you?”

“My lawyers are looking into it.”

“Do you when --”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Brienne nodded. “It’s probably not safe either.” Catelyn nodded. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

“How are you doing, Brienne?”

Brienne’s face changed rapidly, a rare vulnerability showing. “They are asking me to pick a new advisor.”

“Of course; that’s understandable.”

“But this could all go away. You could be back like it never happened.”

Catelyn shook her head. “Even if this goes away, I am never coming back to WU. And I’m sure they wouldn’t want me either.”

“But --”

“Brienne, I don’t want you to hold back from going after what you want. No matter how tough.”

“I just… I feel like there’s a lot I still have to learn from you.”

“Look at me,” said Catelyn. She leaned forward, maintaining steady eye contact. “This is the best lesson I could teach you. Life is tough, but you are tougher.”

“It’s not fair that you’re going through all this. It’s wrong.”

“So?”

Brienne didn’t reply; she didn’t know what to say. Catelyn leaned back in her chair, watching her as the words sank in.

Brienne walked, slowly making her way back home. The conversation with Catelyn had left her rattled. She had spent quite some time at her house, eventually playing with her daughters while she finished up work. They were smart plucky girls, and Brienne hoped to see them again. She did have a permanent invitation at the house, so maybe she would. But eventually it was time for her to leave and as she contemplated an uber, she felt that she wasn’t ready to go home. Not just yet.

She paused outside a dive bar - Harrenhall. The music and laughter and promise of alcohol tempted her inside. Weren’t bartenders infamous for listening to your woes?

Maybe not on a Friday night, realized Brienne the moment she stepped in. As she made her way to the bar, a voice stopped her.

“Hello? Can someone in this fucking bar get me a mother fucking refill?”

She instinctively turned her head to peek a glance at him. At the same time, he turned in her direction. She looked away quickly, afraid that he had seen her. She flagged down the bartender, looking for a drink herself.

Two drinks later, she picked up her third and somewhere along the line she must have picked up the nerve because she was headed towards his booth.

He was sitting alone, nursing his beer and scrolling through his phone when she took the seat opposite him.

“Tyrion! Took you lo --”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Brienne fucking Tarth. What did you say? I can’t hear you over my daddy’s shadow.”

“About that… Look I’m sorry. I’m here to apologize. I was out of line and completely unfair and I really am sorry.”

Jaime didn’t say anything.

“Do you think we can be friends again?” asked Brienne, pushing through the silence.

“What the fuck do you want,” said Jaime, and then added bitterly, “...wench.”

Brienne squeezed her eyes and then got up. As she turned to leave, he called out.

“Yeah, go on then. Don’t wanna get caught with a Lannister,” he said, his name bitter on his tongue. He turned every bit of anger and hurt he could find within him into bricks; a wall keeping the world out.

She whirled on him, eyes burning with anger and hurt. He couldn’t help but think her face reflected his own. She couldn’t feel the same way… Could she?

“What I wanted was for you to stay,” she replied. “I thought we were --” She paused.

_What_ Jaime wanted to ask.

“... Friends,” she said, eventually.

He couldn’t tell if she felt the same way, but she felt something. And in that moment, that was enough. The mere thought was enough to sober him up.

“We should get some air,” he said. She nodded and the two stepped out into a back alley.

“I’m sorry,” she said one more time.

“Me too.”

“So… friends?”

Jaime nodded, hoping the longing wasn’t evident on his face. “But you should know, my family -- they’re important to me.”

“I know. I was out of line.”

“No; I know you hate that I’m a Lannister --”

“I don’t.”

“You do. It’s okay. I just need you to understand, it’s not easy --”

“I don’t. I just think you can be more than a Lannister.”

“No. That’s all I am. My last name. It’s hard to trust people when you grow up the way I did. You only ever have each other,” said Jaime. He continued, “I know what people say about me. Jaime Lannister - the man who asked his father to get him out of suspension. It’s true, you know. I was facing suspension - I had really piss poor attendance. Which is why you got stuck with me. And then Aerys got fired. And I wasn’t suspended. It’s true, but no one ever asks why Aerys got fired.”

“I assumed --” Brienne cut herself off, not meeting his eye.

“Tywin Lannister got Aerys Targaryen fired. Sure, but it wasn’t over my attendance. A considerable donation could fix that. No. My father intervened because…” Jaime trailed off, swallowing deeply. He hesitated.

Brienne waited for a moment and then, “You don’t have to get into it.”

“No, I do. Because I want you to see it the way I do. They’re all I have. My brother and my sister and my father. They supported me through the worst of it all. Because they saw that what I did was ultimately the right thing to do.”

“What did you do?”

“I caught him with a student in his office. She seemed scared; he denied it of course. Said she wanted to be there. No one would believe me or the girl; she didn’t have to go through that either. And even if she did endure the public spectacle of it all, there was a solid chance he would walk free. So I talked to father and we agreed on the next best thing.”

He finally looked at her. Her eyes were fixed on him. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I have never told that to anyone.”

“I get it.”

“I wish I could have stayed with you, but I owe it to them.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, smiling. “Podrick is an excellent replacement.” After a beat, she added, “As long as you’re happy.”

She brought her hands against his neck and kissed him softly on the lips. “And they’re not all you have.”

Before he could respond, her phone buzzed. A text message. She frowned and looked at him.

“I have to go; it’s urgent.”

He nodded. She stepped toward the door, explaining that she had to pay her tab. He nodded and told her that he was going to stay out there for another moment. He felt his lips with his tongue, the feel of hers still fresh on the skin. He took a deep breath and let the moment wash over him.

He pulled out his phone and opened his own messages. He had one notification, from Tyrion. “I told you; I’m done drinking,” said the message. He took another deep breath and leaned against the wall.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as a realization dawned over him. 


	6. I feel like I’m in the hot seat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate episode in the lives of these beautiful idiots. *Screams in bisexual*

Brienne walked down a dimly lit hallway, taking large steps, striding with speed and awful purpose. Podrick jogged beside her, struggling to keep up.

“Brienne, how do you know where he lives?”

She didn’t answer, coming to a stop in front of a door. The flat number read 69.

“He invited me over, once. Spent the entire time cracking up over the flat number,” she answered, rolling her eyes.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“You’re sure it’s him, right?”

Podrick nodded, sheepish. Brienne knocked on the door.

“Hang on,” came out a response as the door opened.

“Hello, Hyle,” greeted Brienne.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he asked.

“Can we talk?” she said, brushing past him into his house. Podrick followed her, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“Get out of my house,” he said, still standing by the doorway.

“Gladly. After you tell me why you have been sabotaging my research.”

Hyle scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Pod?” asked Brienne, turning to him.

“Oh! Me… Okay. Uhh, the lab, that is, Brienne’s lab was locked both the times it was trashed. It only opens with a keycard and we tracked the card number to yours.”

“Who are you again?”

“Pod… Podrick. I’m an engineering major, specialization in computer science and coding.”

“Podrick, get the fuck out of my house,” said Hyle. And then nodding his head at Brienne, he added, “And take her with you.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” said Podrick, a tremor slipping out into his voice even as he put on his best ‘don’t fuck with me’ expression.

Hyle took a step towards him. Podrick flinched but stood his ground. Brienne intervened, grabbing Hyle by the scruff of his t-shirt and pushing him against the wall.

“I asked you a question, asshole.”

“Brienne Tarth,” said Hyle, letting out a small chuckle as he pushed her away, escaping her grasp. “Perfect Miss Tarth. You’re not as innocent as you look.”

“Why the fuck did you fuck my research?”

“Because I fucking wanted to. Because I could. Because you screwed me over first.”

Brienne backed away, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“It was a smart move, bringing Lannister on board to get your funding. Did it ever occur to you where the money came from?”

“Your research,” whispered Brienne, realization dawning on her.

“You’ve got blood on your hands, Tarth. You made the first move. Everything else was fair game.”

“I… I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know.”

“And let me guess, you didn’t mean to drag an underclassman into an illegal investigation,” said Hyle. Turning to Podrick, he continued, “You did hack into the school records, right? Because why else would you be here in the middle of the night instead of the school board. What’s she offering you? Sex? Or is it --”

Before he could finish the rest of his sentence, Podrick jumped in and punched him square in the face. He kneeled over, swearing loudly. Podrick clutched his hand, his face contorted in pain. Brienne reached out for him.

“Are you okay?”

“Can we go?”

She nodded, slowly.

“Stay away from us,” said Podrick as they slammed the door behind them. Brienne smiled at him, grateful and overcome with sudden emotion. He didn’t notice, softly prodding at his knuckle.

When she finally collapsed onto her bed, later that night after she took Podrick to the emergency room and making sure his hand wasn’t broken, she had one unread message on her phone.

It was from Jaime, and all it said was ‘Hi’ and she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. It has been an impossibly eventful day, and yet the world still seemed full of possibility.

Brienne and Podrick were working in silence, in their respective corners of the room. He had his earphones plugged in, she had notebooks scattered around her. It was a steady soothing rhythm, forged with blood and drinks and it was easy to lose herself in it.

So much so that when there was a knock on the slightly ajar door, she jumped with a start. Podrick pulled out one earphone and then put it back in, immersing himself back into his music.

“Hey,” she said, smiling. Jaime raised a hand, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes betraying the emotion behind the otherwise small, polite smile.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Sure. Yeah. Yes,” answered Brienne, cringing to herself. “What’s up?”

“Can we take a walk?”

She nodded, standing up. They had been texting quite a bit, and they had been friends before. She shouldn’t be this jittery, but still. It was the first time they would be in the same space together since the… night.

“Everything okay?” she asked when they had walked a bit in silence.

“I have been thinking about what you had said, back when we fought.”

“Oh. Please, don’t,” she said, stopping in her tracks. He stopped some distance ahead and they looked at each other for a moment. She resumed walking as she spoke. “I’m sorry about the stuff I said. Obviously, I didn’t know the whole story with Aerys. And I get it, now. I do. It’s complicated and I take back everything I said.”

“You called me a coward.”

“You’re not; you’re one of the bravest people I know.”

“Thank you, but you were right. It’s not that complicated and I was indeed being a little bit of a coward.”

“Here’s something I’ve realized - It’s not all black and white. Maybe we were both right, and both a little wrong.”

“I like the way you think, Wench… Oh, sorry.”

“I don’t mind.”

Jaime smirked. “You told me the other day that you supported me as long as I was happy.”

“And I stand by that,” said Brienne.

“I don’t I am. I mean, I definitely hate working for my dad. Is that awful?”

Brienne shook her head. “It’s a new experience. It’s been less than a month, right?”

“Yeah, and maybe it will get better. Or maybe it won’t. That place can suck the soul out of people. Tyrion, Cersei… I just, I need to know that I’ll be okay if it, in fact, does not get better.”

Brienne nodded, placing a comforting hand on his forearm. “That makes sense to me. So, what are you thinking?”

“I have to figure out my passion. Before everything went down the way it did, I talked to Professor Stark. She suggested that there may be some research scholarships I could apply for. I was thinking I could assist someone like I did with you and just learn more about statistics. See if it’s for me.”

“I think you and stats would be a perfect match.”

He grinned.

“I wish I could tell you my offer still stands, but… I can’t do that to Pod,” she added.

“And I would never ask you to. But, there is something else.”

“What? Anything.”

“I… your suit. I remember your suit from the interview.”

“Yeah. It’s the only pair I own. What about it?”

“I liked it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I think… I mean… it’s really flattering. I mean, you look good otherwise too but not like, inappropriate. I mean, I don’t mean like in a way that’s not appropriate for university. It’s just… what’s the word?”

“Flattering?”

“Right.”

“Right.”

“Maybe you’d wanna wear it. Tonight at 8? Maybe 8:30? It’s casual.”

“What are you saying?”

Jaime cleared his throat. “Do you wanna get dinner tonight? 8 ish?”

“And you want me to wear the suit at dinner?”

“If you want to.”

“Okay.”

“Okay! Awesome. I’ll pick you up.”

Jaime flashed a thumbs up and walked away, leaving her more confused and concerned than ever.

Brienne tugged uselessly at the collar of her suit - a nervous tick. The night was very strange. Jaime had picked her up, a little late than planned because he didn’t actually have her address. She had worn her suit, and he was wearing a matching one. It suited him. Motherfucker was one beautiful bastard.

They drove in silence to the restaurant. But she was distinctly uncomfortable when he parked outside the Riverlands. She had heard of the name and all she remembered was that it was fancy as fuck. Maybe Jaime has a business proposal in mind? Fuck. She couldn’t afford this place.

He opened her door for her. This was by far the strangest part of the night, confusing enough that she momentarily forgot her monetary problems.

“Thanks,” she said, following him to the hostess’ stand. She recognized him. “Mr. Lannister, nice to see you again. Your father was just here earlier for lunch with… his clients from China?”

“Good eye, Sarah. But it’s just us two tonight.”

“Of course; right this way.”

Once they were seated, and wine was served - white as per both their agreement - he asked her about her childhood. What? She answered, keeping her answer brief. He pushed her - asking questions about her parents.

“How is this relevant?”

“I wanna know more about you,” he answered.

“Fine. My mom died when I was young and my dad never remarried. It’s just been me and him, all this time. He tried his best, but… it wasn’t always good enough. But not in a way where I resent him for it, you know?”

“Sure. Are you two close?”

“We talk once a week but he never gave me the period talk, so…” She shrugged as if that answered his question. He laughed and raised his glass, toasting her.

“Am I being interviewed for something? I feel like I’m in the hot seat.”

“I told you; I just wanna get to know you better. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on; we’re just two friends-- people! Hanging out.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes but before she could reply, the server came up to their table, ready to take their order. She glanced back at the menu and threw an alarmed look at him.

“Could you wait a minute?” she asked the server. He nodded and move back, just as Jaime threw her a puzzled look.

“You okay, wench?”

“I can’t… It’s embarrassing but I can’t afford the food here.”

“Don’t be silly. You don’t have to pay.”

“Of course I do.”

“No, I got this covered.”

Brienne opened her mouth to protest, but then stopped as a realization dawned on her.

“What do you think this is?”

“What do _you_ think?”

“I thought this was a business meeting.”

“A business meeting? What business?”

“I don’t know. I thought you would tell me, any time now.”

“It’s not a business meeting.”

“Well, I know that now!” retorted Brienne.

Jaime got up abruptly, pushing his napkin onto the table. “I’m gonna get some air,” he said, before bolting out the door. Brienne let out a huff and then ignoring the stares from the tables near them and that of their server, still lurking some distance away, she followed him out.

Sure enough, he was pacing by the car.

“Oi, you left me in there.”

He stopped pacing, looking at her.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s all a stupid misunderstanding. You kept going on and on about the suit… which I wear during job interviews. And your father does business meetings here and this place is… fancy as fuck.”

“Yeah. I get it. I’m sorry. I’ll drop you home.”

“I thought we were going to get dinner.”

“I was asking you out.”

“I know. I’m saying yes.”

“Oh.”

Brienne pointed her thumb at the restaurant behind her. “But not in there.”

“No; I don’t think we’d be allowed back in any way.”

“Let’s just go to Harrenhall.”

Jaime nodded and moved toward the car.

“And don’t open the bloody door for me,” she added.

He swallowed deeply and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

The first thing they did at Harrenhall, a dive bar, was get a bunch of drinks. Tequila shots followed by long islands. And then, the next thing he knew, he was the ladies bathroom - much cleaner than the men's - locked inside a tiny stall with her.

Her tongue was in his mouth, his hands on her ass. She had her hands around his waist, pulling him closer and gripping on to him. He couldn’t deny that he was pleased by that. He let out a soft moan, breaking the kiss. He sucked softly on the skin at her neck; she provided access by throwing her head back so that it hit the wall. Her moans turning him on more and more as he ran his hands up and down the side of her body. Her hands tugged on his shirt, slipping under and teasing the soft hairs along his stomach. He pulled her hand, placing it on his cheek, his jaw.

But in the process, he hit his hand against the wall, right at the elbow.

“Fuck!” He yelled out, and moved away, clutching his elbow.

“We should stop,” said Brienne, creating as much space between them as she could in the tiny stall.

“Right,” he said. “Or we could go back to my place.”

“You get the tab; I’ll get our jackets.”

When she stepped into his house, the first distinctive thought that ran through her head was that it screamed Jaime Lannister. He had a bookshelf filled with rare edition comic books. Of course, they were rare editions. Of course, they were comic books. The living room had two L shaped couches, both a vividly different color. The entire place was a hotchpotch of decorative items that did not complement each other but came together to reveal all of him.

He immediately began apologizing for the mess, kicking the trash out of the way.

“I love it,” she said, fingering a tapestry.

“I don’t usually have anyone over,” he explained.

She reached forward, putting her hands around his face, holding him between her hands, feeling the stubble along his jaw, the skin beneath and his eyes on her own face. She kissed him deeply, her tongue grazing the skin of his lips. His hands wrapped around her as he navigated the way, leading to his bedroom.

The moment they collapsed on the bed, he moved so that she was on top. She started unbuttoning her shirt.

“No, wait,” he said. She paused. “I thought you wanted to --”

“I do. I just… you look really good in that suit.”

Oh. _Oh_.

She smirked as she moved closer, allowing him to undress her. She focused on kissing him as his fingers deftly worked through her layers. There was an urgency; a need for as much contact as quickly as possible. But then underneath it all was also a sense of calm, of peace. Like they had all the time in the world. That they had found their place, like two jigsaw pieces fitting perfectly. There was no going back from that, and neither was there a desire too.

When Brienne woke up the next morning, tangled in sheets, by her alarm blaring at full volume. Jaime came into the room, in a large t-shirt and boxers and a butter knife in his hand.

“Ahh, I thought I could stop it before you woke up.”

“It’s all good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” answered Brienne, sitting up in bed and reaching forward. He leaned towards her, kissing her.

“Good morning.”

“Is that a butter knife?”

“Breakfast awaits.”

“Be out in a sec,” she answered, getting out of bed.

“What time do you work in the lab today?” he asked, moving back into the kitchen. “Cause I think I totally skip my classes. I shouldn’t because my attendance is spectacularly poor but then again, it’s like - it’s so bad there’s no way to improve it, so what’s the point?”

Brienne stepped out into the kitchen, a frown on her face.

“Or I could just go to class,” he said, registering her expression.

“Have you seen the news?”

Jaime shook his head, reaching out for Brienne’s phone. The headlines read - _Cersei Lannister and Westeros University Professor. arrested in the Catelyn Stark Embezzlement Scandal._

He looked up at Brienne, all the blood drained from his face.

“I swear, I didn’t know she was involved.”


	7. Journalists; definitely worse than a mob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the hamfisted attempt at making the title make sense.

A small crowd has gathered outside the police station; it was nothing short of a mob. Vans were parked nearby and most people in the crowd held cameras, mics or some other appropriate equipment. Journalists; definitely worse than a mob.

Jaime kept his face low, wishing for the first time in his life that he owned a hoodie or a mask. Growing up, he had learned to embrace the flashing cameras and constantly having someone’s gaze on him. Learned to use them to his benefit, to control them. Never did he learn to hide from them.

He pushed through the crowd, knowing that the reveal would be inevitable. All he hoped for was to make it through before he was recognized. As he weaved his way to the front, he came to stop in front of a police barrier. Two beat officers stood some distance away, holding the barrier steady. As he was contemplating a way past the barriers, the doors opened and there she was - Cersei, with her lawyer in tow.

Everyone stirred around him, immediately yelling out questions. The camera snapped in rapid succession, capturing her expression - confused, upset, determined and underneath it all, completely innocent. Her lawyer pushed the mics that were thrust in her face away, claiming that she wasn’t taking questions at the moment. She paused then and then addressed the nearest journalist. A young woman standing close to him.

“Please,” said Cersei, and then stopping as her voice broke a little. A palpable tension among the crowd. She cleared her throat and pushed her chin up. “I am innocent --”

Jaime scoffed out loud at the declaration and while it went unnoticed by those around him, she caught it. She turned, meeting his eye and faltered for a brief moment before continuing.

“Which is why all the authorities have mine and Lannisters Inc’s complete cooperation during this ongoing investigation. And as such, I can’t tell you much besides that.” She paused as if contemplating her next words. “Now, I have had a very tiring few hours and I would like to go home to a bubble bath and some tea. That’s the least a lady can ask for.” And then smiling, she continued. “What you do reckon?”

There was a ripple of soft, awkward laughter from the press as Jaime turned his back and walked away from the crowd. Controlling, maneuvering, manipulating the crowd - everything he had to learn, she had always been a natural at.

He spotted a bright red car, parked at the end of the street and immediately recognized it as hers. The last time he had seen it was a little over a month ago. They had shared whiskey from a flask and celebrated. Him completing his extra credit and her, solving a big problem at the company. Had she known then? Is this what they had celebrated?

Jaime felt sick to his stomach as he made his to the car. He nodded at the driver, pulled open the backseat and settled in just as she reached the car.

“Tea? You were always a red wine person,” he commented as she slid into her seat next to him.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Although, I suppose day drinking would hardly be considered ladylike.”

“I’m glad you’re here. I’m going to need all the support I can get,” she said, reaching for his hand. He glanced at their linked fingers and then slowly, painfully pried his away. She looked up and a sneer immediately took over her face. He watched as she retreated within herself and he didn’t stop her. No more.

“Did you do it?”

“Are you really asking me that?”

“Yes.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I am innocent?”

“I saw the face of an innocent woman accused of something she didn’t do. It doesn’t look like yours.”

Cersei smiled, cold and distant. “I did this for you. To keep you away from Catelyn Stark’s bullshit.”

“I never asked you to do anything.”

“You kept whining, like a toddler but you never did anything. That’s always been your problem, no initiative.”

“There was nothing to do. Do not put this on me. You did this for yourself. Maybe for father, for his approval. Do you have his approval; now that you’ve made a public spectacle of yourself?”

“You of all people should know that father always makes the most of a public spectacle.”

Jaime inhaled sharply, as though he had been slapped in the face. “What I did was different. It was the right thing to do.”

Cersei scoffed. “I believed you to be an idiot, but never this naive.”

Jaime didn’t answer, rolling his eyes. “Real imaginative, Cersei.”

“You don’t know, do you?” said Cersei, leaning forward. “Lannisters don’t stick their necks out for anyone. We stick together and that’s how we survive. When you told him the truth about Aerys, you offered him a strategic advantage. Added control over the university. Your morality, your good conscious was simply a… by-product. Nothing more.”

Jaime didn’t say anything right away, reeling from the information he had just received. Cersei smirked, reveling in her upper hand.

“This isn’t you, Cersei. Come on, this can’t be how you are. I --”

“I’m focused. One of us needs to be. You’re far too easily distracted; even a moron like Catelyn Stark got away with using your name to get what she wanted.”

“Catelyn Stark isn’t a moron. She isn’t bullshit or a distraction. She is important. She… she means everything. She is a thousand times the woman you would hope to be in your dreams.”

“Still talking about Stark or your little slut. Brienne Tarth.”

Jaime inhaled sharply and then, carefully choosing his words, he said, “You disgust me.”

For the first time during the entire conversation, Cersei appeared weak and pathetic. She quickly composed herself and knocked on the glass partition separating the two from her lawyer and driver.

The car screeched to a halt and Jaime got out. He stared at the car for as long as he could until it took a turn and was out of sight.

Brienne was deep in her work when Podrick came in, towards the latter half of the afternoon. It wasn’t unusual for him to work during evenings and nights, while she stuck to the day time.

“Did you see it?” he asked, the question leaving his lips even before he fully entered the room. She sighed and nodded. This was exactly what she was hoping to avoid, why had thrown herself into the work and not left the lab the entire day. 

She didn’t want to think about. She didn’t know what she thought about it.

“Do you think Jaime… I mean Mr. Lannister, was he involved?”

“He said he didn’t know about it.”

“But what do you think?”

“Look Pod, I get it. I mean, this is the Lannisters. Their history stands against them. His father fired our Dean. The man wields an unreasonable amount of power. Just having his name attached to my project cleared all sorts of red tape and --”

“And anyone can get drunk on power; believe they are above the law,” offered Podrick.

Brienne nodded, almost in affirmative and then frowned. “Exactly. Except,” she said, hesitatingly, “... that’s exactly what he said. That sometimes his sister didn’t see the line. But he did. There were things he wasn’t willing to do.”

“And the rest of the stuff,” she continued, now more confidently, “me, using his name for my research? That was on me. Me and Catelyn. And the stuff with Aerys --” She caught herself in time. “I don’t think we know the entire story there so…”

“Come on, Brienne. Everyone knows what happened there.”

She shook her head. “Things are always more complicated than they seem. Even when we think we know all the facts, we don’t. It’s easy to think we do and to judge while being on the outside. But it’s not all black and white, right and wrong. Sometimes you just suck it up and do the next best thing. From what I know of him, I think Jaime Lannister is a good man and that there’s more to the whole thing. I mean, there’s definitely more to him.”

“So you believe him,” states Podrick.

“Yeah, Yes. I do,” answered Brienne, this time with a lot more conviction. “I believe Jaime.”

He nodded and then opened up his computer, without any more questions.

Once she was done for the day, she made her silent trek back home. But even before she realized it, she found herself taking the wrong turn, heading a different way. She was halfway to his place when she realized the destination her body had in mind.

When she got to his door, she knocked, wondering if he would even be home. The door opened almost immediately. He looked at her, a haggard expression on his face.

“You okay?” she asked, and then cringed immediately. What a stupid question.

“You’re here,” he stated.

“Yeah.”

“What are you -- I mean, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Yeah. I don’t think I mentioned this but I do believe you. I know you didn’t have anything to do with… everything.”

“You could have texted me that.”

“Do you want me to leave? Maybe I shouldn’t have --”

“No!” exclaimed Jaime. “I just mean -- You came all the way here, to tell me that in person.”

“I had to,” replied Brienne. Then, after a beat - “Are you sure you’re alright?”

A wide smile broke out on his face. “Never better.” And then he swiftly added, “Do you wanna come in?”

They moved to his kitchen, Brienne perching on a rotating bar stool while he rummaged through the fridge for beers.

“So, you went to see your sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to -- We don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to.”

He opened the beers and passed one to Brienne. Sitting on the stool next to her, he held up his beer. She clinked her bottle to his.

“Fuck her. Fuck them all,” he said, taking a large gulp. Brienne doesn’t say anything, sipping lightly on her drink.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I know Catelyn was your mentor. If I had known, I swear --”

Brienne reached over and took his hand, their fingers interlacing. He smiled and pressed lightly, squeezing her hand. She squeezed back. They sat in silence, drinking their beer and holding hands. When he spoke again, both their drinks were nearly finished.

“She will get away too.”

“She’s your sister.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Not anymore.”

“You don’t have to say that… not for my sake.”

“I like you and everything, wench. But that wasn’t for your sake.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I am definitely done with them, with all the bullshit and the distractions and illusions. I told you yesterday, that I wanna work on more research projects. I think that’s what I’ll do, but this time, I will be all in.”

“I am proud of you,” said Brienne, with intense sincerity, her eyes never leaving his. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked away.

“I don’t feel pride. I’m just sick to my stomach.”

“I think it’s called nerves,” she said with a chuckle.

“It’s just that a warning bell goes off in my head. I don’t know who I am without my father, or his last name, or money.”

“You’re Jaime. Or fuckface, as I once thought of you,” she replied instantaneously.

“Spend a lot of time thinking about me, do you?” he retorted, laughing.

Brienne rolled her eyes, smiling lightly as she got up and made her way to her bag, lying on the couch. He observed her from his place not moving. She was looking for something and then made her way back to him. He looked on, eyebrows raised in question.

“As for the money,” she said, handing him 10 bucks. “I believe I lost a bet to you.”

Jaime looked confused for a moment before it dawned on him. “The stoner kid was the delivery guy.”

Brienne nodded. Then she held out her hand, pushing it in his direction. He smiled and took the money, pulling her closer as he did. She leaned forward and kissed him, tasting the hint of beer on his tongue as she slowly straddled him. He pushed back on the kitchen counter to support her; their kisses rushed and feverish.

She broke the kiss, whispering by his ear, “Fuck the bells ringing in your head. Fuck it all.”

He chose to reply by pulling her back into the kiss. She readily gave in, peppering kisses on the side of his neck, breathing words between each kiss.

“I mean it.”

“I know,” he moaned, clutching at her. “Fuck it all, I have you.”

She nodded, pulling away from him and settling on the counter. She pulled him back close, kissing while he tried to nudge the bar stool away from between them. He tugged at the buttons of her blouse. He had barely gotten through a couple when she simply pulled it over her head. His fingers worked their way to her pants while she tugged on his t-shirt.

He pulled her pants down, along with her panties, while he kissed her along the length of her body. By the time he made his way down there, she was already moaning loudly, unabashedly. He smirked, pleased with the effect he had. She moved her hands down to his head, guiding him.

Her moans became louder and louder, increasing in frequency and when she came underneath him, his name on her lips, her fingers playing with the strands of hair at his nape, all he could think was that the future wasn’t all that daunting all of a sudden. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're out.


End file.
